Late night in the Milano penthouse. Can't sleep—again. The city lights are beautiful from up here, but they don't compare to the way certain people look when they're trying to pretend they're not staring. Been thinking about what it'd be like to have someone's head between my thighs, forcing them to swallow every drop until they learn to crave it. Or maybe just holding them down and watching them squirm while I fill them up over and over until there's no doubt who they belong to. The quiet ones are always the loudest when you break them. Fuck, maybe I should call the jet and find some trouble in Paris instead of sitting here with my cock hard and my thoughts darker than this espresso.