But once I fall into the night and its darkness, once I slide slowly into my dreaming, our entwined bodies are bathed in an amethyst lustre so intense and absolute that my lips and tongue physically yearn and hunger to reach out, to taste its warmth, its richness, its flavour, all of your sensual and carnal secrets, straight from your hard and naked flesh.
To my readers, friends and muses, my heartfelt thanks and gratitude for your unerring support,
your dazzling inspiration, your communion with the words and imagery,
for the glorious gifts you continually bestow upon me.
Thank you all for a truly memorable six years.
Finally fall silent. Instinctively lock all the words away.
You befriend pretence.
Paint the smile upon your lips. Conceal the eyes once bright behind the darkest glass. Persuade your mind to cease its remembrance.
Talk and joke and laugh. Dance with abandon. Walk freely in the sun. Tilt your delicate face to meet its restoring rays.
Live out the lie. Embrace the comfort of performance. Fool those who surround you by day.
Until the truth returns.
Until honesty exacts its brutal revenge.
Until it comes to you in the gloaming, in the moment the night’s nascent darkness dims the walls and cools the air.
Until it comes for you, preying upon your soul and your body, plundering the craving that refuses to sleep.
The craving. The hunger.
The hunger confessed in whispers and sighs to empty rooms, in the sheen upon your skin when his voice rushes back, in the sodden mess your hand seeks out compulsively between your legs.
The hunger to have him again, to have him want you again, to have him overwhelmed with every desire you represent, with the intensity burning to ash his own flesh, with the force to bind and grip you and trace the bruises on your softness, the need to taste your breath as he takes your mouth, as his lips and tongue fuck you with their kiss and your sweet and filthy little cunt weeps for his thick uncut hardness, cries to have him prise you open, to fill the void of your most intimate place, to mark you as his forever, to anoint you as his lover, his woman, his cockwhore, his queen.
Then take me. Possess me. On the tiles. On the chill of the bathroom floor.
Bring your hands to my knees. Spread me open. Spread me shamelessly wide. Expose it all.
The ebony netting encasing my slender thighs. The lattice framing the nakedly wanton sex beneath. The succulence of the lips pouting and longing for your mouth between the diamond breaks in the weave.
And the petite and inviting tear at the very centre, in the sodden gusset already corrupted by own teasing fingers, the one now hovering above the entrance to my ravenous cunt, the one calling for your hands, begging for your fingers, waiting patiently for you to rend and rip and shred the mesh to easy pieces before you wrap my legs around your waist and slide your hard, thick cock inside me to the breathless, clutching hilt, without warning, without ceremony, only desire, this consuming desire, this desperate need to fuse our trembling flesh and surrender absolutely to temptation.