Ravenous

I’m ravenous.

Whenever I would see him, this intense craving would well up in me and more often than not, it would drive me literally ravishing the man. It’s insane and unhealthy, but I couldn’t stop myself.

Neither did he.

Sometimes, I’d reason with myself that it has been such a long time that we haven’t been intimate so we’re just making up for the lost time. Or at least, that’s what I’m telling myself. Because the little creases on his forehead when I’m particularly randy have been showing up a lot lately.

“Morning, Mr. Cane,” I sing-songed as he grumpily entered his office. He gave me a stern look and I smirked.

The side of his mouth lifted. I went about my morning.

We’re at a stalemate.

This temporary truce is just that, a truce. Nothing more. I feel the itch to reach out for a bottle or my pills all the goddamn time. More often than not, I give in. The moments wherein I have a smidgeon of control left, I use it to distract myself.

With work.

But mostly with the body of