The Passion

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I take up my pen once more, aching with the struggle in my heart. I must escape this passion that consumes me, but I know not how.

You came to me tonight. I felt your presence, your warmth, before hearing your footfall, my senses are so highly attuned to your nearness. The spell you cast over me has made me your slave more surely than any shackles.

You murmur my name and I turn to you. Your dark eyes are intense, questioning. I stare back, entranced. You have only to look at me and a rush of pleasure fills me.

I move into your arms, aching with love and desperation. Your touch is like a balm, your hand on my breast at once soothing and arousing.

I close my eyes, feeling your maleness, your strength, against my fragility. You know so well how vulnerable I am to you, to your fierce passion. I feel my body flame with it. I tremble at the caress of your lips, your heated breath, your deft fingers as you undress me.

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