For this week I decided to post a piece I've been holding onto. I guess I took this week's prompt of "peace" and decided to find mine by letting it go....
He's here, in my arms, sitting so close to me. I have him. All of him. All night he is mine and I instantly find comfort and the ability to relax as soon as he is in my presence. The stare and longing in his eyes create heat that's spreading through my veins.
I love that; his ability to drive me to heights without touch. I hate his ease of it. After this though, those abilities will be irrelevant. I will no longer quake at the thought or touch of him.
This is goodbye.
I want it to hurt. I want it to leave an impression on my skin as it has left an impression on my heart, my soul. I want it to last, to remain, long after he is gone. I want to be bound tightly in rope as my heart is bound to him.
He brushes the hair back from my neck, fingers grazing the sensitive skin on my collarbone. Chills run down through to my fingertips and the heat is spreading faster.
To touch him, to taste him, is a compulsion. I need this like air. I curl into his side and my lips find his as my hands reach searchingly for some purchase that will keep him here.
I want this to be the best, consuming, unforgettable. My pride demands that I make him remember this for all time. I want it to hurt him too but not in the physical. I want to be a brand in his mind and on his heart.
Soft sheets caressing fevered skin. My mouth explores the recesses of his body, I know all of his secrets, and I use them to increase the ache. His mouth finds my heat and I am a puddle of desire.
I struggle to push him onto his back, I need to drink him in, I want to taste him in my mouth. My nails rake down his sides as my tongue strokes his hard shaft, coming to firmly hold him while my mouth devours him.
The need has driven him to the brink and suddenly the hand in my hair tightens. I'm flipped over and driven into swiftly. His shaft fills me and drives a moan from my lips. This is everything. Love, heat, lust, need.
Ever moving, never still. Gliding together to heights where its hard to breath and the world is miles away. He flips me over, upside down, turning me inside out. We have the passionate fight for control that has me grinding on top of him one moment then screaming my pleasure into the pillow as he pulls my hair from behind.
It isn't enough, it never is. The fulfillment leaves me speechless and wilted, floating and sated, but I always want him. Always. This then is it. A last memory, a last time in his arms. My body was made for him, for his pleasure. I hold him through the night but my bed is already cooling from that fevered pitch and I know not when it will witness such ecstasy again.
Until such time, I will wait, and whisper softly as he falls asleep in my embrace: "Goodbye my love".
See who else is being wicked this week