He pulled me upstairs, one step after the next, and eventually pushed me into the room where I had slept with him numerous times. The room started to spin in circles as he tossed me to the bed, my back splayed over the wrinkled comforter and mismanaged, decorative pillows. Then he started ripping clothes off my body, hungry for me. He became ravenous atop me, burying his face against my chest, between my legs, and pulling my clothes away with his teeth, one piece at a time.
“More,” I called out to him, half laughing at his game. “Don’t treat me nice. I won’t mind.”
Clothes compiled on the floor: my socks, jeans, and oversized jersey. He ripped and clawed at the cotton T-shirt, yanked it off my torso, and dropped it to the floor. His lips met my chest, discovering both n*****s, rigid abs,
