WE ARE MAYHEM. WE ARE CHAOS. WE ARE ANARCHY. WE ARE ALPHA.
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“Please,” he says.
The word is so soft. So filled with longing, and regret, and emotion.His plea makes me want to obey. Against my will, I try to convince myself.
But it’s a lie. There is something here…
like it’s on the tip of my tongue. Like my brain has been keeping secrets and they’re about to explode out of me.So I reach down, grab a fistful of silk tulle, and I give him what he needs.
Permission.
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