Her eyes were locked onto mine. Deep and dark, they led the passage to bliss, wonder, joy, and something that was capable of yanking my heart straight from my chest, rendering it useless at her feet.

Slowly she stood. Her stare was tender and fierce; a play of raw love and intensity, her posture poignant. She was on a mission. She had a goal. She was dedicated. She wasn’t going to fail. Today, right now, she was going to get what she wanted.

Her hand held firm to the back of the wooden chair from which she rose. A soft and slow smile crept across her lips. Her firm gaze never broke from mine. I was forzen. Transfixed.

A single, dark braid falls over her shoulder and sways, just below her navel, the curtains of her dark side bangs framing her angular face.

Her smile reaches her eyes. Dark lips bare and natural; makeup was never her thing. By no means did I ever notice. I had other things on my mind about her, other aspects of her that would steal my attention completely away.

She’s standing now, both arms straight as she straddles the back of the chair. She steps around it with one long, tanned leg, slight muscles surfacing under smooth, soft skin. Perfect skin. Marred by one long, pale and thin scar, like a ghostly finger, arching above her right knee. The kind of thing you would only notice up-close. And as I got to spending more time with her, I noticed that that scar stays bright as the rest of her skin tanned under summer suns.

So many sweet, summer suns.

She steps slowly towards me, the old wooden floor creaking beneath her feet. She’s dancing to a tune only she hears. I pick up on it. After all, we are two bodies of the same soul.

She makes her way to me, where I sit, my legs spread, hands on my thighs, waiting. My heart is in my throat, anticipation clawing its way out of me. My lips part, my neck craning as I keep my eyes with hers. Her gaze never letting up its hold on my eyes.

The skirt of her lavender colored, silk slip rides up as she positions herself atop in my thighs. A heavenly sweet perfume, floral and forest-y, fills my nostrils, intoxicating me. The palm of her hand caresses the back of my neck; soft, smooth, warm. Like home.

Her other hand travels up the thin t-shirt covering my chest. I desire so badly for her hand to slip beneath the shirt. To feel her fingers dance over my skin. I shiver, a chill crossing me at the thought. I feel myself stiffen inside my jeans, addicted to her. Obsessed. Crazy for the feeling. The feeling only she can give me. The very feeling that has changed my life, had me wanting for more.

I’ve never wanted more quite like this before.