Even at this cruel distance, I can feel your hand slipping through the belted mesh, coaxing my hips to the height of your hard and jutting flesh; I can feel your ragged breath as your fingers travel my slender back, stopping suddenly at the small to spread my cheeks shamelessly wide open, to expose to your hungry gaze the pouting, wanton cunt gleaming its need, dripping its want, forever and always, for you.

Lost and alone in the ice storm,
searching and reaching for the man,
the hands that will bring me in from the cold.

Double the fire.
Double the need.
Double the trouble.

You cannot know the way
I want, the way I need
until you touch me.

Hers is a serenity tainted with chaos, with darkness, with passion’s unrelenting rush.

Do you search for me by day, your gaze scanning each bustling and haunting scene, your eyes hunting for a glimpse, roaming to the rhythm of the hunger coursing in your throbbing flesh and pounding veins?

Do you wake in the dead of night, your gleaming body sculpted from our monochrome dreams, yearning to find my sensual softness by your side, longing to feel my wanton desire arching back into your heat?

Lover,

I can hear it. I can hear them.

Even as the world beyond begins to wake. Even as the soundtrack of the new day winds its way into the space between these four walls.

The silent cries of the tangled sheets of snow yearning to bear the marks of your ravenous lust.

The low moans of the mahogany borders ready to imbibe our sweat and screams and molten heat.

The disappointed sigh of a bed that aches to feel your imposing weight, your dominant touch, your crazed desire for supple flesh.

I hear their longing and I feel it, understand it, in my body and blood and bones.

And when I do, I wish you here with us all once more.

A look, a word, a touch. The switch flicked. My mind and desire taken from demure to wanton in three short beats, each gesture melting away my reticence and modesty, spreading me shamelessly wide open to our erotic game. With every sensual thought and carnal fantasy growled from your lips, my
body cries its hunger, my scarlet need drips its craving for revelation, for consummation, for my tongue on your burnished heat, for the grind of your hips, for the taste of our ravenous kiss, for your seed buried deep, for your breath as it etches pathways across this fair skin to my most licentious and sinful want.

Gently upon my skin, carved deep into this flesh,
the memories, the possibility, our loose ends and longing.

I could gently glide my lips, impatiently run their peaks across your ready flesh for a thousand years and never truly know you.

You will forever be an enigma; the secrets and mysteries, the temptation my hands and tongue and mind and molten cunt hunger to grasp for the briefest of moments, to savour and remember your flavours, to etch the passions that seethe and live inside you into every sacred and gleaming place, even as this knowledge absolute is denied us.

Even as that refusal flickers across this delicate skin, binds me to your body, inspires a boundless craving few will ever touch or comprehend.