Him

She couldn’t stop.

Her thoughts overwhelmed by the obsession of him.

Her hands needy at night when she laid in bed alone.

Lace and silk pushed aside.

Shadows playing against one another.

The only thing she wanted was the memorable feel of his skin.

His lips wrapped around hers.

The pleasure curled around her neck.

She couldn’t stop.

The memory of his fingers twisting between her thighs.

The rope holding her wrists.

Her obsession.

She needed him.

The taste of him against her tongue.

Underwear discarded.

She needed his cock to fill her entirely.

His hands pulling her to earth.

The feel of his tongue painting lines across the arch of her back, across the tiny threaded blue veins on the curve of her wrists.

She loved him.

Obsessed by the pleasure he gave.

 

© Copyright of Charlotte Thorpe