Whatever happens between us , his lips will haunt mine , tender , delicate , yet firm and demanding .
The taste of his words like salt on skin , earthy and intimate , claiming me without even being spoken aloud .
His tongue reaches where I had been waiting years of my young age for him , in my rose-wet cave , lingering in that narrow space , between flesh and lace .
The high of his touch making me feel like Icarus flying too close to the sun and I burn with the flames of desire . Desire for his warm flesh , his dirty mouth , his soft hair , his quick pulse , and most of all his hedonistic hands , everywhere .
Ecstasy exlaims as poetry drips his name , my body writing odes to this savage lust , awakening something within me that had been lying dormant in my chest , gathering dust the past years before him .
You are mine . He whispers . The words like an omen , a bell tolling , sealing my fate forever .
Because I'm sick .
I'm deluded .
I'm lost .
I'm his .
Whatever happens ...
