MELITA
Already undone once, it didn’t take much longer for her to unravel again. Sensitive and bowed, it was as though he’d snapped a string and sent her reeling the moment his murmurs came across her jaw, the motions of everything rising into her core and contorting there in nothing but a haze. It peaked on the edges of her senses, and she followed him with boundless appeal, hips sliding, clenching, once his thumb pressed alongside. She didn’t even have to agree to the sentiments, her body committed well before anything could tumble and fumble past her lips. Like a roar and a beacon, she granted her outcry into his skin, teeth miring somewhere along his ear when they pulsed around one another, and then the sharp little breaths of air erupted from her lungs, his name much more than a whisper past her mouth. She’d scarcely noticed the flare of fire around the lanterns, still shuddering in the aftermath, slumping her frame into his like he’d be holding them both up. Hooking and clinging her hands around his shoulders, she felt the rest of the surroundings crash and clamber back – the waves undulating around them, the cool pulse of the air on sweat-slicked brows, the stone nearby, the torches and their hues reflecting on flesh. And still, there was only him that she traced and touched and entangled within, letting them each have a moment in passing, lungs filled, sides heaving. “Hey,” she said after she had a few seconds of tucking herself into his brawn and brimming with contentment, satisfaction, a preen of her smile aglow in firelight. “You good?”
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
