prose #01
he was seriously talking about something, yet, here i am, wishing he'd rail me.
his eyes, they're tantalising. his gaze, it is seductive– making me wanna melt on my knees– and piercing, like he's looking at my soul
"so, this, on the other hand, would have to be..."
his voice—his oh-so-serious voice– so sexy. velvety and alluring. those lips. those sinful lips. i'd do everything just to have a taste of it. i want it all over me. i want it to touch every part of me. i want those lips to tell me to beg. and beg. and beg. and beg even more.
i always find myself fantasising about him, making me writhe in pleasure. about him, making me anticipate. about him, manhandling me. about him doing nasty, ecstatic things to me. about him, making me want more of him. of the pleasurable sensation. of everything in between pleasure and pain.
"are you still with me, baby?"
