"How can I keep things platonic when you're so fucking perfect for me Harry."She blushed. No-one had ever called her perfect before. "I'm not perfect ...ou know. You'd be disappointed if you got to know me. I don't even look perfect."He growled, and the sound went straight to her pussy. His hand wrapped around her throat. Not tightly, just enough to let her know who was in charge. "Don't insult your body," he said, shoving a hand under her bra and his cold fingers pinched her nipple. "You're. She'd first painted my lips in a color close to that ofmy skin, and then put some ridiculous amount of lip-gloss on them. When I putmy lips together, I could feel the sticky stuff all over them. On my eyes shehadn't put any black eyeliner at all; instead it was a soft girly purplishcolor that made me look somehow unthreatening. Finally, she had put blush onmy cheeks. When many women wear blush, they just do it perfunctorily, withoutmuch effect; Alissa's mom, though, knew her blush. The blush. More

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