My Domineering Lover Made No Apologies For

"you’re Different,” He Said, Touching My Face. Of Course I Was. The Man I Loved Had Killed For Me. A Lot Of Things Became Inconsequential After A Sacrifice Like That.

I Kicked Off My Shoes And Pulled His Hand Away From The Wheel So I Could Straddle His Lap And Hold Him. His Grip On Me Was Excruciatingly Tight, But I Didn't Complain. We Were On An Insanely Busy Street, With Endless Cars Rumbling Past On One Side And A Crush Of Pedestrians On The Other, But Neither Of Us Cared. He Was Shaking Violently, As If He Were Sobbing Uncontrollably, But He Made No Sound And Shed No Tears. The Sky Cried For Him, The Rain Coming Down Hard And Angry, Steaming Off The Ground.

More Like Cross Blew Your Circuits During One Of His Sexathons. Still Can’t Get Over That Man’s Stamina. Wish He’d Swing My Way And Wear Me Out.

I Found Myself Pinned To The Hallway Wall By Six Feet, Two Inches Of Hard, Hot Male.

He Was The Kind Of Guy That Made A Woman Want To Rip His Shirt Open And Watch The Buttons Scatter Along With Her Inhibitions.