with his hands roaming my body and his lips on my neck, my nails digging in to warm flesh.
a chorus of sighs and his grip's on my wrists, "oh god" comes out as a whimper from my lips - and that too, is a form of worship.
YOU ARE READING
666XXX
Poetrya series of the 666 diaries, this is number 3. started in april 2016, ended jan 2017.
