Wild Eyes

You don’t love someone only when it’s convenient or easy. You love them when it’s fucking awful and the world is falling apart around you.

There’s a man who will do everything for you.

And then there’s a man who is secure enough to realize there are things you need to do for yourself—

My finger rolls along the mouse, taking me through the series of photos.

Skylar.

Naked in front of a mirror, perfect tits on full display, hand demurely covering her pussy. Hand pulled away. Another with black lacy underwear, curls cascading around her bare breasts. Then with a bra. Then with nylons and fucking garters. Then with heels.

“I’m not—” Rhys cuts off, raking an agitated hand through his hair. “Listen, I’m planning a wedding. Wondering if you guys would like to come to it?”

“Who’s getting married?” I ask, now confused. “Wait, are you saying you’re a wedding planner?”

“No. I’m getting married.”

Go after every dream.

With my thumb on her chin, I pop her mouth open. Hover over her lips. And spit.

“Breathing is overrated. I’d rather be drowning in you.”

“You should just stay. There’s a room for you and everything.” He turns to me. “Right, Dad?”

The sun is shining, the lake is sparkling, and there’s another fucking tourist on the side of the road trying to get a selfie with a bear.

Not just any bear either. A grizzly.

“You have to be kidding me,” I mutter as I press gently on the brakes of my pickup truck and shake my head. I don’t have a clear shot of the woman, but I see skin-tight jeans, a crop top, and a waterfall of loose bronze waves spilling down her back in shiny ripples.

While the bear forages in the ditch

I love reading and writing. Feels a bit like talking to someone.”