He brushed some strands of hair that were almost frozen to her tears away from her eyes with his hand, “People who don’t want drama in their lives want to exist without living. I think it’s a waste of time. Imagine being on your death bed and having absolutely nothing to remind you of how vital your life was... because in the here and now you didn’t want the hassle.” He smiled almost to himself. “Strife is just something that reveals who we are. And you are nothing short of a thrill,” he softened and opened up to her, “You’re not a toy for me to play with. This isn’t a game to me. This is who we are to each other.” He shut up to let that sink in.

The Claiming, Part IV  

erotic short stories


The Claiming

a fragile balance

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