To my readers, friends and muses, my sincerest and heartfelt thanks and gratitude for your unerring support, your glittering inspiration, your communion with the words and imagery,
for the glorious gifts you continually bestow upon me.
Thank you all for a truly unforgettable five years.
The growled utterance shatters resolutely the silence.
These four little letters, this singular word is all I need to sense the force of his desire, the complex ways in which I tempt him, here and now in the gloaming, dressed in nothing more than nylon and pearls and the heat of my own maddening craving, the pulsating ache between my fair thighs, the sex scarlet and sodden crying out for his mouth to kiss me soft and deep and long, for his tongue to enslave me, to drink down this sweet, fragrant nectar, for his thick, hard flesh to fill me, unleash me, tame me, possess and fuck my tight honeyed cunt with a sensual measure that leaves my entire body trembling and these lips whispering their hunger for more.
I know only with this desiring body, the alchemical connection that continues to torment, that binds me to you like addict to obsession, to the masculine potency of your flesh, that stirs me as the day is dawning, that colours the light as if the darkness about to descend, that whispers to the craving skin of my feminine sensuality, to the wild and uncontrollable, to the depths of this lustful decadence, that moans along the arch of my form, the tips of the fingers reaching out to caress, to the cunt etched with your name and dripping our passion’s indelible scent.
Meet me in the haze, in the dreaming, the in-between, in the delicate light of dawn, in the ivory tangle of our lust-drenched sheets, in the body sensual, the fusion electric, the woman shaking beneath as you drive our hunger deep, as you plunder her dripping sex with the fire of your need, the one who craves each night and day your sweet possession, the violent rush of your creamy sin, the passion exquisite and crazed, the souls unveiled and craving together, always.
To have you here, lover. To hold your ache between my lips. The lightness of your being etched deep into my sensual flesh. The intensity that stirs your soul, a sheen upon this skin. The gaze that reveals it all to me, that veils you once more in mystery. The kiss that maps the bright, its home these silken hollows. The utterance that guards the dark, the wanton shadows craved.
In her sensual arc, he receives the sigh, the burnish of the sun on her skin, the piquancy of her wetness, the sweetness of her perfume, the desire that burns through flesh and bone, the need for his breath soft against her nakedness, for the hands and his touch and their landfall, for the caress along the grain, along the curves now trembling, aching for his uniquely perfecting form.