h was incredibly warm, almost to the point of being scorching, as if the blood coursing through its vein
id me a visit. In these moments, a recurring pattern emerged-a fleeting instance of lucidity. It was a flee
r him to leave, he would oblige without uttering a single word. As silently as he app
never c
ng to do. The smart thing
, honest to God, I was. I thou
eside mine, he turned me into him, I opened my mouth to speak
two hours, I di
lt. I fe
of it
*
n bed, I quietly watched him glide about without making a sound, which struck me as rather pecul
matic visitor donning his clothes was akin to observing a mesmerizing display of a badass, macho dance – or at least that's how it felt to me. Of course, s
I might have unwittingly shared these private moments with half of Denver, each of them getting their exclusive glimpse of our passionate encounters. The mere idea of it messed with my head, a
illed about the notion of sharing
ng a comforting heat on my knee, and his fingers curling around the back, while he placed a tender kiss on my hip, his lips delicately grazi
estled under my face on the pillow. His body shifted in my direction, and his fingers
, babe," he mu
esponded in
in at the back of my ear, followed by the tantalizing touch of his tongue. The se
overs up, ensuring I was cozi
he was gone. Not a sound, not even the faintest creak of the door openi
ind-boggling,
ary, but my mind didn't share the same sentiment. Turning onto my back, I wra
s name, which made me whisper to mys