un.*
He smells of Hydrangea picked straight from Heaven's garden.
deux.
His lips letting the most fervently beautiful sound leave his body to reach me.
trois.
His eyes, containing the same pigment of my favorite chocolate, wash over me in those places he knows I want him to be.
quarte.
He moves closer in the most angelic way, pushes my hair back, kisses me ever so gently.
cinq.
this is what love feels like I'm thinking as he puts his palms against my back and we fall into each other like the lines on the painting we saw somewhere in Pennington.
six.
Unfathomable. That love I feel when he looks at me, hungry yet delicate. This could never get tiring.
sept.
I'm pushed against this wall and lifted onto his hips. Clothing seems to melt off of our infinite bodies so that we may fit entirely. Flesh meshed together. I can't tell where mine stops and his begins.
huit.
This is a fairy tail that never ends as our breathing becomes a pattern into each others mouths. Me in. Him out. We're our own song. Every stroke a beat. Every moan a voice. Every scratch a strum. We're beautiful.
neuf.
To the bed we go - never missing a beat. We're in sync and I couldn't love him more. More. Every stroke more. I'm on a cloud, the rest of the world no longer audible. He's panting.
Dix.
I love you.
**Fin