Thinking. Thought. Thunk. Thinking. About him. Of course it was about him. The way he said the
Thinking. Thought. Thunk. Thinking. About him. Of course it was about him. The way he said the things he said, the way he’d call her a good girl, the way he wouldn’t call her a good girl. And how good that made her. How just being around him made her smile and squirm, made her want to ruin her sheets and get out some new ones. Thought. All those moments when he wasn’t quite as attentive as normal, that slight distraction that suddenly got the cogs whirring in her mind, started playing out all those desperately dangerous situations where things spiral out of control and come crashing down. Frustrated. Nervous. Annoyed. Stupid brain. Thunk. The moment his head came up from between her legs, that cocky smile on his lips and that one eyebrow raised, her mind fuzzed. She couldn’t overthink because she couldn’t think. He blissed her into oblivion, driving her into a point where there was no thought, only that pleasant, gorgeous, joyous fuzzyness that came after, well, she did. So she just had to make sure he did that a whole lot, and things would be fine. -- source link
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