Her Secret Desire

She told me she was faithful. She told me she had everything she needed at home. But her moans in the dark told me another truth—her body was starving for a touch she’d been denied too long.

Every thrust was a confession, every trembling gasp proof that loyalty was just a word, not a feeling. In that moment, she wasn’t his. She was mine. Entirely.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

✍️ "Weak in the Knees"

✍️ Somebody’s Shoulder Is About to Give Up

I get jealous over someone who isn’t even mine.