Life after becoming Winter's thrall is confusing and frustrating. But also full of new possibilities.
“Pull my hair.”
“What?” You open your eyes, releasing the breath you’ve been holding in for the past minute or so. The pretty blonde perched on your lap sighs in reply.
“Hold it for me,” she pouts, gathering her hair back into a makeshift ponytail. You take over, grasping the bunched up hair at the back of her head. She winces and you ease your grip, a couple of long strands falling down over one eye. The blonde tries to blow them away with a puff of air from her mouth, but the errant strands cling stubbornly to her sweaty brow.
“God, just do it already,” you snap, bouncing your leg impatiently.
The blonde’s eyes narrow but she leans forward anyway, glossy lips shining in the late afternoon sunlight as they part. Her mouth hovers right above your exposed neck.
Winter is hesitating. Again.
MORE COMING SOON!
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