The neon sign outside the apartment buzzed with the angry, erratic rhythm of a dying insect. Inside, the air was still, cut only by the sharp click of heels on hardwood.
"Most people live in the middle," she mused, moving behind him. "A five. A six. Comfortable discomfort. They dip a toe into the dark and run back to the light." “nine” | kink label 3
"Yes."
"Then prove it." She trailed the tip of the switch down his sternum, pressing just hard enough to leave a white line on his skin that flushed red moments later. "I want the surrender. I want the control. I don't want to hold your hand. I want to own the breath in your throat." The neon sign outside the apartment buzzed with