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I'm Trade, and I've a foul mouth area. I also have a very skilled mouth area, and I've no problem revealing either. Women have something for "the bad son". I play that part well, only I play it dirtier. There's not much going on in my own small town of Mohave, that is, until you walk in. You. You toss me an attractive smile and strut that A+ ass my way, and today I'm wanting to know what those high heels you're balancing on will feel like digging into my backside while I'm between your thighs. I used to be minding my own business, perfectly fine sitting here at the bar. But you were required to walk in and wreck havoc on everything. You're observed by the incorrect crowd and that's dangerous. Very dangerous. For both folks. I hate that I want you. We're from two different worlds. It can be risky here for a woman like you. So why not take your large innocent sight and expensive skirt and go back to where you belong. Because I'd eat you up and return back for seconds as long as you're still panting from my first flavour of you. But you don't leave. Actually...you come closer. You're playing with fire. Because now I not only want you, but I protect you. Struggle for you. And it may well not be enough to keep you safe. Problem is, you just may want me back...and I might be a small town bad son, but I know when something is doomed from the start. And that is precisely what we are.
