Before he even knows he is doing it, your clothes are leaving your body. The pretty dresses, the lou
Before he even knows he is doing it, your clothes are leaving your body. The pretty dresses, the loungeabouts, the carefully chosen ensembles, the robe.They will be stripped away and cast aside as nothing. He does not see that you may need their comfort or their warmth or their cute or the way you thought they made you sexy. They are gone and you are stripped as soon as there is that closed door and that certainty of privacy. He loves you. Your hair, your skin, your freckles, your smooth, your soft, your hard. Your mounds and your clefts. All of them. Everything. When he lifts you in his arms he wants you naked and unadorned. When he kisses you he wants to find no obstructions to his lips, for they will drift and they will love the length and back and depth of you. When he feels your need and your ache he wants your trembling body to obey his whispered command and to buckle under his strong hands and for your nakedness to feed your need and flood you with your ache and for your nakedness to pierce his heart and fill him with the power and the certainty that he will use you brutally and beautifully and never ever betray your body by never, ever denying his. -- source link
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