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I am addicted to the sparks that run through my skin, to that moment when the air becomes heavy and desire becomes a pulse that beats faster than reason. I lose the touch, the held breath, the vertigo of knowing that I’m about to cross a line that I’m not going to respect. I am not looking for tenderness, I am looking for fire: eyes that burn, hands that speak more than words, bodies that seek each other with hunger. I turn on the game without rules, the tension that bites, the delivery that is felt in every breath. I'm not a whisper, I'm a fire When I enter that rhythm, there is no turning back: only the overflowing desire, the skin asking for more, and the certainty that after me, nothing feels the same again..