and he sucks gentle,
sliding his tongue so soft across my clit,
heat floods my blood
“Right there,” I sigh,
wine at my lips for another sip,
smoke in my lungs after another drag.
My gaze drifting between emerald eyes and the Manhattan skyline,
the Empire State shining bright behind him.
Then I exhale with a smile.
His next words are spoken right into my pussy.
“All yours, Baby.”
2 /JADED
AEROSMITH
// SEPT 30, 9:16 AM — PENTHOUSE — UPPER EAST SIDE, NYC //
Monday morning.
I wake up moody and frustrated.
Little Death’s knocking on my clit like?—
morning, Baby. It’s me, your favorite habit.
Handle me, and I won’t fuck up your whole day.
The heat of it throbs
right on fucking time.
Brandon makes the 10 a.m. climax.
Ben makes the coffee.
Coffee, clit, cum—they know the drill.
I give the Boys everything:
a home, a car, an allowance.
In return they follow my rules:
stay loyal, call me Baby, make me come.
If they cross a line
I cut them off. Simple as that.
