Monday, July 19, 2010

Paper Faces - 23. Damask

Rough hands slow as we shift onto the bed. Thick embroidered fabric meets my bare skin, soft and silken and completely wrong for him. I am surrounded by lush gold, cold and impersonal.

I wonder just how much in this room speaks to him.

A heavy weight, nude flesh and robust muscle, settles over me, and I don't care.

I don't care that he's lonely. That I am. That he despises me. That this may be the worst decision I've ever made.

He makes me want to live, to feel.

His hips rock, his cock against mine, and I moan.

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