❛𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄...❜ | 𝟏𝟖+

𝟎𝟖 | 𝐵𝑖𝘧𝑢𝑟𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒...

༺ "𝙱𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎" - 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜... ༻
༆𝙿𝙾𝚅: 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚡༆

Sharpened canines dig southward into the flesh of sensitivity coating the blessed spot below my right earlobe, shallow exhales of breath ghosting over the surface. My tongue ripples inside my mouth's home, creating a paving path of trilling chuckles as my noir locks swish to the side, exposing the curvaceous arc to my nibbling sensation to an extremely angled breeze. "Crr..." the deafening noise made by my woman's points scraped into my throat, marking me desperately before I ventured to escape her captivating hold. Teeth scathing the precious blanketed skin resting on my neck's facet, I wriggle in my capture, bending my body lowly forward to try and abscond the tight grip.

"You do know that I'll have to leave eventually, right?" sluggishly angling her droopy skull upward for her pouty, red-painted lips to steal a wholesome, loveable smooch from the sharp curve of my jawlines slouch, Sloan dips her head back down to reach my collarbone, her lips hungrily pressing into my flared flesh. "Objection," my cosy chuckle slices through the thick air of blissed tension to aid my right arm to snake its way upward, until it lies grasping the supple contortion of her neck's backward slope, deepening any erotic actions filling my woman's illusion of my being resting with hers, snuggled up between the barriers of a hugging mattress that lets our tangled bodies sink into the depth of it, when the painful reality that will mean the departure of my cursed soul from her embrace. Waking up and smelling the roses is often something my hopeful, pretentious soulmate fails to indulge in...

"I wasn't really asking, darling..." the light nickname filled with heft in its meaning tickles my tongue's tip, rolling down its slope as it has done many times before, adding a hint of dictation this time to force a sense of heed in my words. Sloan's hand trails down the small of my back to cup my left ass cheek, squeezing it tensely in a harsh remark of power, deepening our contact of lustful vengeance by drawing back her palm and bringing it back down onto my curvy, supple and soft flesh in a satisfying smack...making me tumble unsteadily against the length of my lovers' body, her weight capturing our fall in its embrace. Her breathy, hollow chuckles that hit the back of her throat which therein lays the darkly sweet contrast of connection and warmth, the craving for crystalline beautified contact never to be satisfied...

Perhaps in a sentiment of revenge, I loop my long leg around her extended one, wrapping and twining endlessly around the toned slope of her calves in a tight hold. I lull my head back to use her strained collarbone as a comforting pillow, my skull fitting perfectly into the curved, hollow shape left for my blessed body to rest in, a grave I'm delighted to claim... "You think you're so clever, don't you?" her husky, hungry voice spears through my ear canal, tickling a trickling tantalising trail to my ear drum, setting it alight, as well as other sensitive areas of my body...

"You tease me..." I roll my skull laggardly in a soft spin against the elegant arc her perfect shoulder makes, eventually turning to clasp pupils with my agitated lover, limbs tangled and curves entwined... "...I tease you." the reprising attire worn to coat her longing, dark pupils igniting a crucifying spark within the pit of my belly, forming a warm golden glow to caress my insides, fluttering up into the bottom of my pumping heart. Slipping her long, dainty and pointed fingertips beneath the waistband of my skirt, she begins delving deeper between my thighs, entering my folds nucleus and teasing the fleshy button tripped down the opening of her index and middle finger, clasped in between their strength whilst they squeeze harshly. A split second flies past our connected figures which have been collided together to join as one in a fleeting moment of confusion, my handsy lover removes any and all touch from my yearning body, stepping backward to a distance of arms length, a distance I long to despise. My pouty lower lip stumbles out from beneath its once sealed entrapment, slipping from beneath my upper lip to make a pinky appearance, the depression and emotional deflation my saddened heart exacerbated paints itself along the deep fuchsia strips of hurt otherwise known as my lips, the gateway to my sacred mouth, more than a simple cluster of meaningless syllables joining together in unison to form words of innocuous...however, if any breathing element  held within had been subconsciously allowed a rough downfall, it would most likely have taken place in the seconds going by.