Peach was fucking rich, you know; the type of rich that could make a man adorn a shit eating grin. But, peach couldn't just flaunt the god damn money alone! no no no, that could not do. So who did she have? you. Her perfect little you. You could get anything out of her, just with the simple flutter of your lashes or innocent gaze up at her.

Been eyeing a certain designer piece? it's yours. a pretty little dress she'd know in HELL would drive her crazy--that you wanted? All yours. She was easy, somewhat. Your company and nods were all she needed in payment, but what was your payment? her black card slid to you by her manicured nails; and or her ability to make you see stars under the silk of her sheets; Maybe even both if you lucky....but a girl could only dream.

"looks good on you baby," a voice spoke, sly and all. At the moment you sat at your vanity, adorning your neck in a new necklace Peach had gladly bought you; it was gold, and a fancy P.S charm was the cherry on top. Her First and Last name, laid on your skin so perfect. How could she just resist? "God," she breathed out, "doesn't even look just 'good'....you look really good sweetheart." her silver tounge whispered, peach's grip on your hips tightening as if she was holding back.

But when has she really, 'held back'?