LOVE WAS THE FIRE that burned those who dared to touch the flame. Sometimes we chose to endure in order to rise from our dark ashes and become anew while other times, we lent our ears to the fire crackles that whispered ‘run’ as the red pops branded us with a battle scar.

Most scars faded. The proof of existence, however, remained as a vivid memory in our minds to remind us never to love and be burnt.

Was love worth fighting for?

PROLOGUE

It started like this: I craved attention and he handed it to me on a silver platter – at least for the night. One moment my legs were crisscrossed on the floor with friends around me, our cups filled with sweet liquor as we played a game of truth or dare and the next, I was on a bed underneath a stranger, who did the most unorthodox things that even the holiest being would close their eyes to.

Our shallow breaths mingled in the cool air as he rolled off me and onto his back, hand behind his head.

“Round 2?” I asked as my fingertips slithered down his chest to the deep ‘V’ that led to the desired destination between his legs. Bingo – the catholic college rumor that goes like ‘the deeper the V the bigger the dick’ has never been truer than in this moment.

“You—” he flipped us over, then handcuffed my wrists to the bed posts “—have no idea what you bargained for.”

His silver eyes were cold and dominating as he waited for those three little words of consent, which I uttered next, “Then show me.”

                                                                  ...

L I K E  (Pretty)

S U B S C R I B E (Please)

 C O M M E N T  (with a cherry on top)