He told me I wouldn’t want his dark side.

The ravenous, rapacious man. The intensely driven one. The jealous, covetous him.

He’s never been more wrong.

For what he doesn’t fathom, the very thing he refuses to believe, is that I ache for just such a man, hunger like the starved always for him, for the man who cannot bear to share me with another, who craves to possess all I am as woman for himself alone, who needs to overwhelm in turn each one of my senses, who desires nothing more than my body and soul unravelled by his decadent dominance, bewitched by the lightness of his touch, who gazes deep into my clear eyes and recognises a kindred darkness, the one fearless in the face of the carnal cravings screaming silently beneath, the one who anoints me as his queen and lover, his cock whore and beloved with his fiery seed in my cunt and womb, with his name penned in our come on my lily-white skin, with the voracious tongue raked along my sodden cleft, with the thick hard flesh of the beast claiming, fucking, ruining for all others the desire and succulence of my sex.

Lover
I crave and burn
Glow for you and you alone

Every day begins…
With the rumble of the kettle and a pot of tea
With the yearning ache between silken thighs
With the craving inflamed by thoughts of you

One look, baby.

That’s all it ever takes.

One look from you is all it takes for each stitch and thread clinging tight to fall to pieces, to disintegrate, to surrender to your presence, to pool on the floor at my feet, to leave me wild and disheveled and utterly bare, to have me breathless and shivering wet, to leave me shrugging and tugging at the luxurious draperies that have somehow resisted your charm and strength, to have me yearning for your possessing touch and the hedonistic pleasures of your perfect flesh.

Here and now, I know not the whys or wherefores. I know little reason or this mind’s sense.

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.

Trace the heart in the frame
Glide your fingers to the gift
Ease soft thighs brazenly wide
Touch your lips to my honey drip

It isn’t merely the winter that makes me shiver.

It’s the thought of your kiss light upon each inch of my fair skin, your fingers easing away the straps and lace and cashmere, your lips whispering deep the words of adoration and need, your beard grazing the tremble of my soft thighs, your mouth worshiping the sighing ache of my scarlet desire, the carnal pulse of your flesh bringing me to my knees, my tongue devouring with greed, the possession hard and glistening and profound, the gaze all-seeing, all-knowing and yet somehow arcane, the man ideal, the veiled soul, the lover whose subtleties and complexities, whose primal urgencies and lingering sensualities even now feel just like home.

Lover…

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.

The days. The months. The years.

The lure. The intimacy. The torment.

The glimpse of this beguiling curiosity.

The moments burned deep into your flesh. The echo of that voice. The taste of the words. The mouth aching to savour the softness of that skin. The fire, that kiss. The intensity your body and soul refuse to forget. The racing heartbeat as your caress worships each line, curve and hollow. The glistening sin that flows and screams between your legs not merely from craving but also from need. The whimpers and moans as you fuck and make love and come shivering together until you fear for nothing, until you pray for sweet annihilation. The one who rushes back, who possesses your desire as the velvet darkness sets in, as the innocence of day shines bright.

The man and his inexplicable singularity. The ideal given life.

Come to me.

Move in.

Close.

Close enough to sense my heat, to bask in the gleam on my skin, to commit to memory my perfume, the softness of my breath, the moan released from these rouged lips as I struggle with my need, as I silently fight the urge to reach out and touch lightly your bronzed nakedness.

Near enough to have your gaze possess and scorch your mark deep into my flesh, to have your look trace the line, the curves of this body, the dim light and each accenting shadow, the pearlescent spheres wound about the slender throat your hands crave to sensually grip, the string soon to be replaced by the glistening beads of your violent passion, to have your eyes travel languorously all the way down the tautness of my belly, your flesh and desire and mind a whir as you fix on the pearls nestled into this sodden scarlet smoothness, around the throbbing bud of my purest pleasure, between the cunt lips, along the intimate place even now begging, pleading, craving your voracious mouth and tongue and dexterous fingers, your cock, your thrusts, your come deep inside my sweet tight cunt, the beautiful brutality of your invasion.