possessive Geschichten

My face was held by his left hand. He was examining me with his brown eyes. I felt the blue paint from my artwork, beneath his hand. We were so close. His lips were inches away from mine and I could feel his breath. They were slow unlike mine. My heart was beating so fast. My wolf kept telling me it was him, our mate, her voice was filled with excitement of what's to come. His smell was manly and strong. He smelled like salt from the ocean, tangy like oranges, but also sweet. He used his left thumb and wiped the the blue paint from my cheek. "You're mine, mio amore," his husky voice said. "All mine." "I'm what?!" ❋❋ Published: 7.21.2016