I'M GETTING F*CKED AND NOT IN THE GOOD WAY.

 

Girls, girls, girrrlllllsssssss… Last Christmas, I hooked up with my own brand of sexual kryptonite.  More aptly, he’s my personal Sex Luthor. (See what I did there?!)  We cuddled up in the Caribbean for almost a month, and he bent me into every position imaginable until our secret rendez-DO ME ended way too abruptly for my tastes.

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Here’s the kicker:  Mr. Gifted Dick is none other than my bestie’s older brother.  CHADWICK CHARLES.

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Blonde, built, and beautiful—he’s everything I want in a man but know I don’t deserve.

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So, now, that we’re house sitting together, I’ve got six feet, three inches, of walking sex at my personal disposal. AGAIN.  Add to that Chadwick’s little dare of “Don’t fall in love me”… my weak heart can’t take it. Or him.

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Every touch, every taste, and every thrust seem to mean something more than what we’re saying.  Why can’t it be like it was in the Caribbean? When I knew where we stood—him behind me, with me bent over a desk?

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God, I’m f*cked.