Sleepy Fox Hollow Gave up on it, but honey, you got my hopes up

Her yellow eyes slid back in a sidelong glance. Mahler followed. It was deliciously intoxicating to be able to lead him wherever she wished, as was the belief that he was helpless in this. What would've been satisfying was to lead him somewhere where he would be forced to watch her succumb to the lusts of another. After all, he was pretending to love her while also planning to cover every bitch he could get his paws on. Didn't he, then, deserve to feel the sting of not being enough for her in return? Green-eyed jealousy roared in her and screamed to leave his greed behind.

But even the cruel satisfaction of shoving that bitter pill down his throat wasn't enough to compel her away. She wasn't looking for just a father for prospective children. In fact, more children were far from her mind and well outside her wants. That was the first clue that although she might've felt in control, she was snared just as much by the wiles of her body and his presence as him.

So after some time of leading him along, dancing out of reach, Wylla whirled and surged toward Mahler. Her march was confident and fervent and she didn't stop until she collided with him, sliding her lithe figure alongside him in a heated brush. Her ulterior motives unraveled the moment she touched him, sweeping away diabolical thoughts both good and bad and leaving only jittery nerves and drowning out the impulse to leave him.

Wylla knew better than this. She knew that he just wanted what was between her legs, not her, and that this meant nothing because he would share this with countless other women and god damnit she needed to get away from him, but her legs would not take her away. They only pressed her closer with a needy breath.