Chapter 32. Roses for My Rose
KROSS
I looked down at my hard dick as if it disgusted me. I shouldn’t be hard at the thought of her, but goddamn it, how could I not?
I want her. I know that like I know the color of the sky, but I couldn’t have her. And getting hard at the thought of her was wrong to me. So I was disgusted at myself because I usually had more control than this.
I had sex. I wasn’t some saint who doesn’t fuck. I did. I fucked like a damn animal. Sex was like some relief for me. But I only had sex when I knew I wasn’t close to my rut. So I fucked as many times as I wanted. But I had control, control of when I got hard. And that was why I never touched myself.
But now I found myself unzipping my pants, and taking my dick out. I stared at it like it was a stranger, watching as precum dripped down my length.
I didn’t want to. Goddamn it, I really didn’t want to touch myself, especially with the thought of her but I know I would have to if I wanted to get it out of my syste
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- Chapter 33. Like a Proud Big Brother
- Chapter 34. Like a Man Wants a Woman
- Chapter 35. Die from Too Much Pleasure
- Chapter 36. She’s Trying to Kill Me
- Chapter 37. Hysterical Laughter and Hurt Lingering
- Chapter 38. A Grumpy Witch Who Couldn’t Take Rejection
- Chapter 39. Less Good-looking and All Muscles
- Chapter 40. Serenity Melancholy