I like running my little fingers
against the sides of your head
where I can feel the bits
of the forehead sweat
you claim to be the
effects of stress.

And I like the way you
move your hands
around my chest
to my little,
mountain *******.

And I would tear
a too-cool-for-school,
city slicker vest off of you.

It's true
you're my addiction,
my highest fixation.
Oh, I don't need vindication
cause I have no regrets.

You're kissing up on my neck.
Slow steps.
I can't even hold my breath,
but you've got me speechless.

And some girls like the boys
who steal the show in an
overworn muscle tee.
But as for me, I like my boys
a little more preppy.

So let's pour some
wine and whiskey.
You got me frisky
as you walk my way.

Stay. Come over to my place.
Claim that bed like I've let you
take my body.

No stopping.
Heart throbbing.
I
want
you.