Amalia
the shield of safrin
He takes her hands and consecrates them with kisses, his mouth like fire upon her skin. And then he descends, again, again, lips leaving lines of eloquent hymns upon the tendons and slender angles as her fingers curl back into his hair, guiding and coaxing, easing and asking, reveling in the wonder of his unquestioning ardor. Amalia arcs and aches and croons, an instrument played with expert skill, impatient and yearning with equal parts as he works his way upon her figure. What do you want?- this, forever: to have this place with him, in his arms, in his eyes, in his home, to embrace and adore, to love and be loved.
It is not until he is upon her again that the baker shifts her tune and tone, raising face and lips to meet him, her leg swinging suddenly over his hip. Capture: she pushes, eases, flows, falling fluidly into his lap, her arms wrapping greedily around his neck as at last the girl claims her prize. His name is a whisper on her lips, a moan against him as she plunders and pleases; she lets long fingers slip down his spine, his other hand caught in his hair. Flush against him, her skin is blazing; she presses aches, for further contact, greedy for intimacy, for closeness, for love.
Slowly the girl begins to travel, her mouth tracing over the curve of his jaw and over to the shell of his ear, tongue slipping out to suck on the lobe, teeth nipping gently upon the soft flesh. Then down, even further, onto his neck, licking and lapping, kissing and biting, possessive and ardent as she tries to show with each ministration how much she is willing to give.
It is not until he is upon her again that the baker shifts her tune and tone, raising face and lips to meet him, her leg swinging suddenly over his hip. Capture: she pushes, eases, flows, falling fluidly into his lap, her arms wrapping greedily around his neck as at last the girl claims her prize. His name is a whisper on her lips, a moan against him as she plunders and pleases; she lets long fingers slip down his spine, his other hand caught in his hair. Flush against him, her skin is blazing; she presses aches, for further contact, greedy for intimacy, for closeness, for love.
Slowly the girl begins to travel, her mouth tracing over the curve of his jaw and over to the shell of his ear, tongue slipping out to suck on the lobe, teeth nipping gently upon the soft flesh. Then down, even further, onto his neck, licking and lapping, kissing and biting, possessive and ardent as she tries to show with each ministration how much she is willing to give.
you drew memories in my mind
i could never erase
you painted colors in my heart
i could never replace
