OH, FOR THE love of blood and pain, if I can, I will wipe the smirk off his face, his terrifyingly beautiful face, Prime’s gorgeous face, off this planet. Truly. When he smirks at me with that satisfaction written all over his face, just because I whimper when he pulls out and I can barely sit without being supported by him, I feel the need to sink my claw deep enough into his back, like I didn’t already do it.
I can see from the reflection in the glass window that I had made a mark, well, several marks, deep enough that it’s taken his regeneration skills to heal the wounds. I didn’t mean to extract my claws out. Really. But they just came out, and I immediately scratched his back, enjoyed the way he screamed, and groaned out loud, and it just became a thing.
But back to the problem. P
