I’m Such a Bad Girl
I had no intention of stopping, either.
I mean, I can get away with anything I want. I know I can.
And I was proving it all over again — not that I really needed to prove anything to anyone, but it was nice to prove to myself that I was the perfect little bad girl.
I had no intention of stopping, either.
Stealing was an addictive desire in me — taking something that didn’t belong to me was almost orgasmic. It turned me on and I knew there was something wrong with that, but I didn’t want to see a therapist because honestly?
I’d more than likely fuck him. And that wouldn’t solve my little problem of wanting everything I shouldn’t have.
And so I finished perusing the mall, taking what looked good, what I wanted, and little things I might want to give to others. I’d never been watched before — I could get away with murder here.
Little did I know, I was under surveillance.
The mall was closing, though. As I headed for the exit closest to my car, a dark-skinned gentleman gently grasped my upper arm.
“We’ll need to have a chat before you can head home, Miss.”
