“I’m going to do whatever I want.”
By now, I have my hand over her mouth. My arm is pressed up against the plaster wall; the paint is scratchy and the plaster is cold. The curves of her — hips, ass, ribs — against my body are warm.
“And you’re going to do whatever I say.” Read Preview
Reader Reviews 5.0/5
The pink of her is showing
I love tiny dashes of colour like this in a story: simple, exquisitely visual, graphic. The nameless woman comes alive.
