You hate her.
Her beautiful face. Her sexy body. Her flirty voice.
The way she laughs.
The way she smiles.
The way she breathes.
But as you show her that hate by pulling at her hair, tearing at her clothing, and scratching at her skin — you need her to give it to you.
Want her to let it continue.
The small, glancing bumps of her womanhood against yours.
Impacts that make you growl. Make you hiss. Make you moan for her, just as she does for you.
It is the only thing you and she agree on — doing so without words or discussion.
The silent trade you both make, knowing full well where it will lead.
