Wanting, needing, taking it.

"I remember reading somewhere that men learn to love the person that they're attracted to, and that women become more and more attracted to the person that they love."

I believe in that quote entirely. But I don't know that much fully. I have only seen glimpses.

When I first saw him, I noticed his eyes on my chest. I should have thought it was perverted. I lapped up the attention. But I never give it away and I'm dismissive by nature. I was standing outside and there was light from only inside of his house. I walked in and saw him politely converse with my mum. I think he occasionally glanced at me. I expect no more. I'm not someone who ever got the full second glance.

"Why me?"

I finally decided to get up the nerve and ask him to fuck me. I don't know about beauty but I know that I wanted him to fuck me. I felt like he would be one of the best at it.

I'm shy when I'm not on paper. I blushed and looked away from his eyes. I didn't notice how exquisite they were. Green and blue and stormy. Incredibly searching. Soulful. To think it was his house mate's eyes I noticed first time round; icy blue. What's ice compared with fire?

"Why me?" He repeated.

"Why not you?" I swerved and answered without thinking. I felt a traitor and a phoney.

"It's been so long. And we only briefly met once," I said still not looking at him. "I have only one image of you. Tall and predatory."

When I said predatory I wanted that. I wanted him to fuck me, take me, possess me and fuck my sweet little face. I wanted his big dick whether thick or long or virile or dripping with pre cum stretching my stupid small bow lips. I wanted him pulling my hair and kissing my brow tenderely.

"Do you want me to tear you up?"

Oh yes. "What?"

"Because that's what a predator does. Or do you really want that? Think long and hard. Though I admire your courage."

"Thanks." I bitterly spat.