My grip in her hair tightens as she manipulates the toy connecting us, bringing me to that brink, again.

She figured out what made me tick that first time we met. Each time after unlocking my damaged parts, breaking my resolve. That’s what she’s paid for.

Her eyes shine like a cloudless day, one could lose themselves in them. 

Pushing her head into the pillow, I avoid those baby blues. 

I can’t, I’m not ready. She knows why. 

So she gives me what else I need. Rough. She gives herself over, allowing me an outlet for the resentment of another.