I wish you had a man who knew exactly how to handle you. One who wouldn’t hesitate. Who wouldn’t need permission to take control. A man who’d grab you by the throat, push you up against the wall, and smirk when he feels you melt under his hands. Who would keep his voice low and firm in your ear as he tells you exactly what’s about to happen, and exactly how wrecked you’ll be when he’s done.

I wish you had a man who knew how to tease. Who’d make you wait for it, draw out every filthy, aching second until you’re squirming, panting, begging for more. Who would edge you until your thighs shake, who’d pin your hands above your head just to watch you writhe, who’d let the anticipation drive you wild before finally, finally giving you what you’ve been desperate for.

I wish you had a man who wouldn’t be gentle when you don’t want him to be. Who’d grip your hips and pull you back onto him, who’d leave handprints and bite marks like he’s signing his work. Who’d call you a good girl when you take it exactly how he likes, and something much filthier when you’re too far gone to care.

I wish you had a man who knew how to play in public. Who’d rest his hand on your thigh at dinner and let his fingers wander under the table. Who’d grab a fistful of your hair and whisper something so obscene in your ear that your cheeks burn while you force yourself to keep smiling. Who’d slip his hand under your dress in a crowded room and smirk at the way you shudder, knowing damn well you can’t make a sound.

I wish you didn’t have to wish for any of this. But since you do… let’s make it worth it.

I’m six feet of strength and control, with the endurance to keep up and the skill to keep you on edge. Broad shoulders to hold you down, strong hands to pin you in place, a sharp mind that knows exactly how to pull you apart. Green eyes that will have you second-guessing all your good decisions. An auburn beard that will leave your thighs soaked before I even get my hands on you. I smell like Polo Black, I taste like sin, and I promise I’ll ruin you in ways you’ll never recover from.

You: 30 , sharp, a little restless, and just reckless enough to say yes. Maybe you’ve been too good for too long. Maybe you just need a man who won’t make the same mistakes as the ones before. Maybe you need a firm hand, a filthy mouth, and someone who isn’t afraid to take what he wants.

Tell me what you wish for. And I’ll tell you exactly how I’ll make it come true.