C A T A L I N A
call it a booty call , a regular hook up , friends with benefits , whatever physical relationship people developed , it was always a slippery slope that seemed to end up in heart break . catalina never understood why , perhaps her mother’s influence in her explained it , open-minded women who refused to shy away from the idea of sex being fun and making the most of it while they can . ❝ good ❞ she decided , tilting her head to look at him .
❝ heeey ! ❞ she whined , more out of a drunkenly bruised ego than anything else . ❝ have you ever had a french girl as pretty as meee ? ❞ she challenged , too tipsy to realize the odds weren’t in her favor , but also too tipsy to care about it . ❝ i think i’m the prettiest . ❞ she added in a murmur , grin on her lips as she beckoned the male closer .
he wasn’t one for relationships, hell he cheated in every single one of the ‘ relationships ‘ he’d been in. he was someone that liked having his pick at women, he like the variety and the thrill of the chase. the satisfaction of the catch. and as she whined out he just couldn’t hold himself back, there was a sense of adrenaline that cursed through him when he had a girl begging to hear what they wanted to hear. not that really did that, ever, but maybe that’s made him keep her around just how hard he had to work for her to be putty in his palm. “--definitely the prettiest,” he nods because of course he was going to feed her ego. “you should,” nods the singer coming in closer, pressing the lightest kiss to her lips.
