Tattoos, body chains, and dark lipstick.
Ina and Amé are two women who rewrite the game.
Follow them into their never ending world.
Written by Ina Seele and Amé Fengári
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"I can't be naked forever," she whispered, rolling her eyes.
"Why not?" He frowned, his hands going up and down her thighs and back. "I like looking at you."
She smiled and leaned her forehead against his, chest against chest, and since he was sitting on his bed her legs were around his hips.
"I'm obsessed," he whispered, like a man admitting to have an alcohol addiction. "You're beautiful. Fuck, you make everything look so plain."
"Stop," she grinned, shy and red at the cheeks.
"Idina."
"Yes?" She looked up again, her brown eyes dilating as soon as she took a look at his blue ones.
"Did we rush?"
She shook her head. "No," she grinned, "not at all. It was perfect. It was great. It was..." and she took a deep, shaky breath. He leaned in to kiss her clavicle. "Don't worry about me," she whispered, "I'm fine. Just get us home."
"I will," he whispered, "I swear," he kissed beneath her chin, lower, his arms cradling her body to no escape. If men worshipped women as Ivaan worshipped Ina, there wouldn't be any wars.
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Amé gave a smile to one of the maids, but that smile was as awkward as the aura outside Ivaan's room. No, they couldn't hear them, but it was obvious Ina didn't sleep in her room and Ivaan Adinov was still in his bedroom at two in the afternoon.
Amé sighed. This is why timing is important. Then again, this time they needed each other, so she reasoned with them. Amé had learnt this past year that time was bullshit, and love was a word, an action, a whisper away. She learnt that your life could be ripped inside out, by just anyone, and it's up to you to rebuild what an intruder broke.
She was happy for Ina. She was just happy.
She got an angel, an older brother that saved her life, and she had prayed that day that she'd make it, and he heard a prayer from a sinner.
She was grateful.
"Hello," Ivaan said, walking into the kitchen with a smile on his face. His pitch black hair was wet and he was wearing sweats. This man really loved simplicity. "What's for breakfast again?" He smirked, and sent a wink toward Amé.
