She came into my world like a tempest, a force I never saw coming, yet one that has left me breathless in its wake. I had long known my place, my power, my control—solid, unwavering. And then, she appeared, and suddenly, everything I thought I understood felt like shifting sand beneath my feet.
She is a contradiction to my certainty, an enigma that makes my pulse race. She submits, and yet, in that surrender, she owns me just as much as I claim her. It is maddening, intoxicating. I crave her with a desperation that shakes me to my core. To hold her, to feel her tremble beneath my fingertips, to mark her as mine—these are not just desires; they are needs, clawing at me with every breath I take.
Distance is a cruel mistress, one I have never learned to tame. The ache of separation is a slow, exquisite torment, stretching time between us like an eternity. And yet, even from afar, I feel her. She is woven into my thoughts, into my skin, into the very essence of who I am. She is in every whispered longing, every sleepless night where I reach for her and find only empty sheets. But she is there, always, in the way my body remembers hers, in the way my soul calls to hers without words.
She has unraveled me, stripped me bare, exposed a depth of yearning I did not know I possessed. And yet, I do not fear it. I revel in it. Because in this surrender to my own hunger, I have found something more profound than I ever anticipated. She is mine, and I am hers, bound by something that defies distance, defies reason, defies even my own ironclad control.
I will have her. Completely. In every way.
Because this—this fire, this ache, this relentless, searing desire—is not fleeting. It is real, raw, and undeniable.
And I would not have it any other way.
22 days.
