a mess of tangled limbs and white bedding, they kissed and wrestled for hours on end. he grabbed her roughly, and set her down gently, deeply kissing the weakest point of her neck, making her moan and draw her fingernails down his back. he pinned her arms down on the bed as she writhed around half-heartedly trying to free herself. she decided to distract him using the one thing that could always break him: her poetry.
"I wrote another poem about you, do you want me to read it to you?", she asked seductively.
"yes, now. get on top of me. read it on top of me." he freed her, just as she knew he would, and she reached around him to grab her little black moleskine. she climbed on top of him and straddled him just the way he liked. her wild mess of curls framed her face like a lion’s mane and just barely covered the top of her bare breasts. he gripped her thighs and smiled up at her, eyes shining with curiously and desire. voice low and raspy, putting her heart and passion into every word she spoke - his favorite thing about her - she began to read:
"my lips are chapped and pink
not from devouring your mouth
but from wishing I had
not from devouring your mouth
but from wishing I had
there are twigs and leaves stuck to my body
not from us violently fucking in the woods
but from sitting next to you
a heavy force of sexual desire throbbing between us
not from us violently fucking in the woods
but from sitting next to you
a heavy force of sexual desire throbbing between us
my hands are shaking
not from the thrill of feeling every inch of your body
but from trying to force myself not to
not from the thrill of feeling every inch of your body
but from trying to force myself not to
I am pathetically drunk
not from the consumption of alcohol
but from you
not from the consumption of alcohol
but from you
your eyes
your lips
your hands
your words
your presence
consumes me”
your lips
your hands
your words
your presence
consumes me”
with a tinge of nervousness, she set the book down and looked into his eyes. “what did you think?”
"beautiful", he whispered. before giving her any time to respond, he rolled her over so that he could be on top, his preferred way of viewing her. he kissed her forehead, then her nose, both cheeks, then moved to her lips - each time caressing her face with the only word he could use to describe her and the madness she had thrusted into his life: beautiful.
