oh to be titus danforth a evil spoiled sugar baby girlfriend. sitting perched on his lap while family affairs are being conducted but you’re not listening. head laying on his shoulder, a hand rubbing up and down his chest. you never interrupt but on occasion titus will break his focus away with a loving but firm slap to your ass or turning your face towards his to give you a filthy obnoxious kiss. his family grimaces in disgust at sight but he doesn’t acknowledge them, just whisks you up in his arms to take you back to his bedroom to address the ache in his cock. accompanying titus around the golf course or the occasional hunt. you hate seeing him hunt animals, humans on the other hand… now that’s a little more tolerable. so there you are riding beside him on the atv in a little black dress and knee high boots, stacked in jewelry and a fur coat. he tells you the coat is faux because he’d kick himself for making you said, truthfully it’s real, his girl is not sporting fakes. what you know won’t kill you? he could never make you cry, not when you look at him with so much adoration and squeal so supportively when he’s successfully taken out someone with the hunting rifle in his hand. if he’s feeling especially doting, he’ll teach you how to fire his hunting rifle. he’s picking you up and twirling you in his arms if you successfully take someone out. after that, he’s not concerned about cleanup, instead he’s already pulling up your dress and unbuckling his pants to take you up against the tree.
this would be displayed on a bookshelf in jack and readers place. send tweet.
