Désiré Me 2
It tastes of tomorrow, of dawning eternity.
His hands, then, demand nothing. They simply travel, rediscover. They draw circles on my hips, move up along my spine, make every nerve on the surface of my skin shiver. I close my eyes, overwhelmed. The gentleness of this moment, this conscious, deliberate tenderness, moves me almost more than yesterday's furious passion. Because this tenderness… it doesn't dazzle, it permeates. It doesn't consume, it transforms. It burns lower, deeper, and promises to last far beyond the flames.
— We should get up, I murmur, without any conviction.
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