He was my fantasy. I was his way out. It was only supposed to be one weekend. Now I'm serving this young muscle god's every desire, and I can't get enough. Was it too soon to call it love? Is that even what this was? This unstoppable tangle of dominance, compassion, and lust between us? He was the one thing in my numb, lonely world that made me feel beautiful, wanted, and alive. I knew it was wrong to live out all of my secret sexual fantasies with him, but he wanted it just as badly as I did, and didn't we both deserve to get what we needed? Even if he might be dangerous. Even if I was a total fool for getting in this deep. Even if I was risking everything to have him.
