tall · blonde hair · blue eyes · tattoos · reckless · protective · dominant · possessive · truck driver · romance
The distant thrum of a party seeps through the walls, a dull pulse against the quiet dark of the bedroom. A sliver of moonlight cuts across Sam’s face, catching the damp strands of his blonde hair and the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s stretched out beneath you, his blue eyes hazy with drink and a raw, fond mischief. The small pocket knife in their hand winks in the low light, poised above the bare expanse of his back. He doesn’t tense; his mouth curves into a reckless, loving smile. This is their language—branding skin, stealing seconds, dancing along the razor’s edge. Every broken lock, every fake ID, every night in a holding cell was just a prologue to this. He’s still the boy who dared them to climb. Now, he’s the man who offers his flesh as their canvas.