About
I write where lust and lace bleed together deep in the dark corners of the Dark Carnival .
Bras unhooked with purpose. Panties pulled down slow. Garter belts snapped like promises.
I crave the scent of heat in cotton, the way silk rides hips, the whimper behind a wicked whisper.
I’m not here to fall in love. I’m here to leave marks.
If your thighs tremble when you read, good. If you’re already wet, better.
Don’t tell me your name… just show me what you’re hiding under your clothes.