There’s no ember and no kindling. When my lips touch his, there’s no slow and steady smolder. The taste of him is spark to fuel, and I am quick to light. There’s no warning and no warm up. When my skin touches his, there’s no soft and gentle tingle.
The feel of him under my hands is electric. His skin carries current and my every nerve goes live. The want for him burns so fucking hot it pulls the oxygen from the room and makes me gasp for breath… [read more]