“Fuck, my baby,” I grunted, feeling her gushiness as she slid up my shit.
My eyes closed, involuntarily. Royce was far from reasonable. Her voice. Her pussy. Her presence. Her body.Her. Keeping my composure was impractical.
“Look at me,” she demanded.
I nodded.
She slid down my shaft. Everything tightened. My heart rate quickened.
Oh Royce. You do not play well, my baby.
A hand released my shoulder. It gripped my chin, lifting my face.
Up.
“Look at me.”
I did as I was told. The shift was upon us. Royce was empowered. I could do absolutely nothing. If I did, I’d bust all in her shit.
She peered down at me. Her sinful gaze was a forewarning. I didn’t have much time to prepare for the extraction of my soul. But, it hardly mattered if I had. Royce would take it anyway. Even if it wasn’t already hers to have.
Down.
There was so much in those irises. They said so much without Royce saying a word. They were full of so many things.
Greed.
Need.
Pleasure.
Pain.
Confusion.
Fear.
Fearlessness.
Understanding.
Sadness.
Pride.
Selfishness.
Selflessness.
Openness.
Vulnerability.
Submission.
Power.
She was my pretty contradiction.
