Crawling

From across the room I sense the look you’re wearing and I’m captivated by the near sight of you.

I want, no, I need to tease and taste you, wrap my warmth around you—your torso, your waist, your entire base.

Gently, I drop to the ground. Fluffy carpet greets my knees and it feels safe to surrender further, so I do.

On all fours, I crawl to you.

One elegant leg extended behind a bent one, hips swaying like a sexy tornado, a supporting hand behind a hand in motion.

I meet you in oblivion.

My hands move from the fluffy carpet to your metatarsals—you tremble at my touch—then they move up around your ankles, holding them as best as my slender grip allows, and up to calves, caressing gently.

At your kneecaps, I ball my fingers together then let it open, my nails gliding over you in 5 different directions. I do this a few times, enjoying the way your breathing changes

I kneel before you in black lace, flowers embroidered into the fabric. You touch my petals, your big hand blanketing my entire rib cage and snaking around to my back.

I inhale deeply as my senses take your touch.

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