The Way We Love

Bend Over

(Feather's Pov)

Paul's grey eyes were cold and metallic, like diving into frigid Alaskan waters on an overcast day. His irises were lightly shaded with a smokey green hue that splintered between the fractured lines and colors.

Paul pondered with glimmering intrusiveness while he studied my lips. With each stroke, I felt dirty like the smog that seeped through the city pipelines.

He had a sad and disconnected smile that made me shiver. It reminded me of ashes and embers in a dying fire, dead and still in its chaos. I could tell he never wore his heart on his sleeve, it was in his ocean eyes, enfolded in the depth of his lonely coffin.

Paul grunted, closing his eyes. The pleasure left him on the ledge, as he gripped my bobbing head tightly.

My wet sultry lips continued to slide down his hard rod, as I teased his senses with my French tongue.

"Get up!" he snapped suddenly drawing my head up, towards his face.

I wiped my mouth, "what?" I asked confused.

His moods seemed to switch quicker than my thoughts.

Paul didn't say anything, he just zipped up his pants and leaned unsteadily against the wall of the truck. He glared at me as if he saw the devil.

His thick eyebrows formed the perfect arch, which drew attention to his roguishly precise cheekbones, and strong chiseled jaw. Danger had never looked more enticing.

"It's time to leave," he said pointing towards the door.

"You're sweating." I pointed out watching the beads trickle slowly down his glistening jaw.

His long eyelashes fluttered in annoyance as he rolled his eyes, "I'm sorry this spa doesn't have air conditioning" he said sarcastically.

Paul lifted up his shirt, to wipe the perspiration off the side of his face.

I looked away, afraid to stare at his body for too long. It was firm, hard, and defined. My gaze lingered on his abs. Those solid rippling indents chiseled into muscles like a torching sex symbol.

I squirmed, the gap between my thighs felt a new rush of heat.

Paul grabbed my arms, pulling me to the door angrily.

I couldn't help but wonder how someone could be so destructively handsome, hypnotically beautiful, and still exude this aura of insanity.

Down to my core, I knew I should run, but his blistered lips left me paralyzed.

"Hey, what's your name?" I randomly inquired.

"Dumbledore," he said sarcastically.

"I heard the cashier in the gas station call you Paul," I pointed out.

"Then why'd you ask?" he laughed opening the truck door and giving me a firm shove.

I blinked as the bright orange beams of natural sunlight directly touched my face,

"Do you sleep there?" I asked looking back at his truck.

Perhaps, I got a kick out of bothering a complete stranger, but something about him was magnetic. He was sin in the heat of summer.

His veins were ready to pop out of his forehead, as he gritted his teeth, "I sleep on the streets," he grumbled.

"Plus as far as the police know, this truck is abandoned. Prostitution is illegal, I can't bring more attention than necessary. You can't even imagine what will happen to me if I'm arrested." he added, a hint of vagueness in his deep low thundering voice.