1. whiskey, neat

It's been a while since I've last seen him, and just the mere mention of this man's presence makes the blood in my veins sing. I can almost hear his voice calling my name.

"Aurelia...." he'd slowly drag, his tongue licking his lips each time before pulling into a sinful smirk. "My muse...you have complete control of me, you know that, don't you?"

I shudder at the memory, recalling the intensity of his green gaze. He'd always call me his muse, his inspiration. His golden girl. My mouth runs dry.

I want nothing to do with this man; so why is it that my body disobeys me? Why is it that goosebumps rise on my skin at the thought of seeing him again?

*mature and explicit content*