I am, first and foremost, a gentleman. A charming, helpful, even sweet sort of man. I hold doors open. I never lose my cool. I tip well. I make old ladies laugh in grocery store lines. You would never suspect me of having a mean bone in my body, but perhaps that's because it belongs in yours.

I am also, second and just as importantly, a large man. Over six feet tall, broad, with a big, soft belly and a gentle patch of hair on my chest. The kind you can rest your head on after I’ve spent the better part of an evening ruining you. A place for you to catch your breath as we prepare for round two. That’s the thing, really. For all my charm, there is something within me. Something animalistic and primal that cannot be reasoned with. A thing that wants. A thing that takes. A thing that makes polite society clutch its pearls, then quietly lean in for more.

And you? You're strong. You're clever. You're beautiful. You know exactly what you’re getting into. And yet, despite all that, you find yourself wanting to be pinned beneath me, breath hitching as I press my weight down, making you feel small, trapped, owned. You want to push back, to make me work for it, to see if I’ll really take what I say I will. I will.

Oh, like hell I will. It's you that I want. You that I want to feel sexy and desired and like I can't let you go for a moment because I crave you so much. More than food or drink or even my next breath. I want you. And I want your body. But only if you want me to. Because, despite the terrible things I will do to you, they will all be things you want done. That is the deal. That is the thrill. That is the fun of it. You say the magic words, beautiful, and I unleash myself upon you. So tell me, darling...why should I choose you? Why do you deserve to be mine?