Charlee has my arm. She has my arm-my arm that’s rigid from pleasure, from her touch-in her little fingers. She holds my other one, too and she’s right there, that sweet candy perfume stripping the rest of the strength from my body, and it escapes in a soft, breathy sigh.
I’m either with you forever, or I’m not. I’m not into games or fucking around. I’ve had enough experience to know what to hold onto when I get it.
When I’d remember this night in weeks, months, or even years, it wouldn’t be the sex. Sex would fade and so would the need to be filled with him, but right now I felt him inscribe his soul around my chest, and the reminder would be there with every beat for as long as I lived.