Control and surrender are never equal.

Control and surrender are never equal. I decide how they move between us. I circle you slowly, your eyes locked on my hips swaying, on the shape of my thighs, on what I keep hidden between them. I let you feel me without a touch, making you restless with every step. Then your hand catches mine, pulling me closer, dragging me into your space. For a moment, you think you have claimed me, turned me the way you wanted. But I take it back, every inch of thigh, every curve of hip, every part you thought you owned, mine again.