There is a darkness in him that compels me.
Every move he makes, it entices me and pulls me in.
A charming smirk, a twitch of his finger,
As he lounges in black velvet--nails sharpened to a point.
It's dangerous, but I can't withdraw, can't pull away from his touch.

His personality is like a drug. It's abusing, but it feels so good--so raw and primal.
I'm suspended on a silken thread, waiting to fall,
Anticipating it.

But all he does is smirk and take a drag as he paints my skin with ink.