Suddenly, he drops both cups of coffee, to the floor, then consumes my entire body pressing every inch against his solid stature. His kiss is demanding with an animalistic undertone that makes lust rumble.
I think this is the start of what they call makeup sex…
I’m hungry for his flesh to feed the drought. My breath is quick and my body is hot, but as he takes me by the hand, to lead me up the stairs, my heart doesn’t beat. I can’t make the climb to my bed chamber, he’s innocent, I’m not. His frame is fragile – easy to break – while mine is thick with armor and scattered with scars.
Today, I’ll break his heart. He stands towering over me, in silence. There is no way to mask the pain; it floats freely in my deep blue eyes. Falcon’s face drops, no words are needed to usher him out. He simply turns and slips out the front door, without a sound. It’s over, I’ve been set free.
Day’s passed without the slightest sign of sorrow touching my soul. I’m oddly, curiously fine. My world has an influx of new opportunity with invigorating relationships bombarding me from every angle. I’m alive, my passion deep for a new taste of ethnicity.
A unfamiliar presence seems dangerously close. A ghost swaying in the breeze with his lips near the arch of my neck. His hands closing on my hips to pull my curves against his elusive self. There’s a new inspiration in my life. It’s good!
