Secrets of Desire
His eyes opened, still treacherous.
“Morning, little sister,” he growled, his voice vibrating against my nape. “Time to stretch that greedy cunt with my rules, you filthy whore.”
He rolled away, the mattress dipping, reaching under the mattress, he slipped out a single sheet of thick cream paper, folded once, the edges crisp, the faint scent of ink clinging to it. No lawyer’s letterhead. Just his handwriting, in black ink, sharp slashes that looked like they’d cut the page.
THE CLAUSE
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