He's twice my age. Silver at his temples. Hands rough as the whiskey he pours. And when he finally looks at me—really looks—I see three months of hunger held on a leash that's about to snap.
I've never been touched before. Not like this. Not by a man who knows exactly what he wants and takes it slow enough to make me beg for fast.
One night. One bed. One chance to find out what I've been saving myself for.
He warned me he wouldn't be gentle.
He promised to ruin me.
I told him to try.
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