LYRA;

(before you turn the page)

I’ve been touching myself to thoughts of Kai since I was sixteen.

Not the sweet kind of crush where I imagine holding hands or slow kisses. No. I imagine him pinning me down, one big hand wrapped around my throat while he fucks me so hard the headboard slams against the wall. I picture him spitting on my pussy before shoving his cock inside me like I’m nothing but a tight, wet hole for him to use. I’ve come with three fingers buried deep, whispering his name like a dirty prayer, wondering how it would feel if he bent me over the kitchen counter...