Last, but not least…Here is the reader’s choice from my latest book, The Telling.
I like a dominant man in my life. I like someone who is in control. I like to think I’m in control, pretend it, brag about it, lie for it. I like that I know, that he knows, that I know I’m not really in control.
We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to.
The perfect line. The perfect pitch. He’s already made the decision, but poses it in such a way that I can make-believe it is mine. I like to take what doesn’t belong to me.
He’s a steamroller in my life and I like to be laid out flat. I like his hands on my chest, pushing me down whenever my back turns to the span of a bridge. His hands on my thighs, forcing me flat, flat, flat. Yes. Yes, I like that.
He makes me crow like a rooster and I want the world to know I’ve seen the sunlight. It’s like daybreak bursting to life inside me and for a split second I’m lit up brighter than a Christmas tree in Times Square. My body becomes a beacon, a calling card, a flash bang grenade and it draws more, more, more. I want a sunrise that keeps coming, up and down like a yo-yo on fire.
I like when everyone can hear my sunrise, my daybreak, my rooster call.
I’m vocal about it.
I’m in charge of it, or so I pretend.
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