The One She Needed

TWELVE

RAQUEL

Of all the places we could have gone, I never expected to end up here. The same spot where we first spent time together. The scent of sizzling steak lingered in the air, mingling with the quiet hum of conversation and the rhythmic cadence of the poet on stage. The dim lighting and exposed brick walls made the place feel intimate, like a secret shared between lovers.

I shifted in my seat, feeling the weight of his presence beside me. Dressed in a tuxedo, he looked effortlessly sophisticated, the slight stubble on his jaw adding an edge of rugged charm. I knew we stood out here, me in my elegant gown, him in his tailored suit, yet he didn't seem to care.

And I didn't either.

When he showed up at my event, it undid me. The effort he made to be there, to support me—I fell harder. It had been so long since I felt cherished, since someone looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

I glanced at him now, my gaze drifting lower. The sharp cut of his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly as he exhaled—it sent a ripple of heat through me. My thighs pressed together involuntarily, anticipation curling low in my stomach at the thought of being tangled with him in the sheets, lost in the heat of him.

He caught me staring.

His lips curved, knowing and slow, and I bit mine to keep from gasping. I cleared my throat, forcing out words that barely sounded like my own.

"Why are we here?"

Breathless. That's how I sounded.

He didn't answer. Instead, he stood, adjusting the sleeves of his tux before making his way toward the stage.

Wait.

Is he doing what I think he's doing?

My suspicions were confirmed when the host introduced his name, handing him the microphone. The murmur of the crowd settled, all eyes on him—but he only looked at me. A dazzling smile spread across his lips, and then his deep voice filled the space, smooth and rich like honey.

"I've never done this before," he admitted, his gaze locked on mine. "But someone inspired me to try."

The air in my lungs stilled.

"This poem is called 'The One I Need.'"

That was the moment I lost the battle I had been fighting against him, against this pull between us. I swore more wetness pooled between my thighs, listening to his words, drowning in the desire woven through every syllable.

Grasping my eyes now filled with wonder.
Wonder of what lies beneath the beauty of her landscapes.
Is there gold, diamonds within her lips, ivory in her hips?
So mysterious is she, as she leans casually by the bar.

Youthfulness seeps through her pores,
While seduction fabricates the angles of her shape,
Putting all into a trance. Legs up
To her thighs give promises of valuables and treasures.

Are all these promises true?
Her smirk tempts all to spend a single
Night or more inside her continent. To take
Pleasure in her tunnels soaked with honey and milk.

Rolling off the tongue, her taste is sought after,
As ships from far and wide come to soak in
Her juices that are unique. She has no curse
Between her thighs, only redemption that frees me

And thus, I confess—she is the one I always needed.

His voice, smooth as velvet, wrapped around me, threading its way through my veins. Each word, each syllable, was a caress against my skin, unraveling me from the inside out.