His obsidian hair,
Bristling in the wind.

The brown embers-
Flickering inside his eyes;
Threatening to light me on fire!

His soft supple skin,
Gliding against mine
Sending electric waves through my being.

Oh!
Those soft and tender lips—
Brushing against my ear,
Whispering and ode of joy.

His gentle hands,
Sneaking around waist
Luring me in.

The low,
Yet gentle growl
His voice—
His sweet sweet tone,
Sending flutters of butterflies erupting within.

And me,
His prey.

The one thing he desires;
Waiting—
Hoping—
Praying—

Will he make me his?