Stalking The Smut Slut
It still doesn't make it right, but I currently wonder to myself if I'm making a bigger deal out of it than I should.
The door squeaks open, yanking me out of the frightening haze. When I turn to see who it is that has decided to disturb my quiet depression, Brixton is standing there with dark eyes filled with pools of rage, which astounds me beyond belief. His gaze grows threatening and possessive, sending a chill down my spine and causing me to shiver. I take a deep breath and slowly swallow as he gets closer, hands in pockets, and a gun visibly tucked into his waistband. The sun is shining today, and the rays bounce off of him, highlighting the stunning features that make up his physique.