Craving The Enemy's Husband
A low, sultry melody drifted in, Alicia Keys’ If I Ain’t Got You, the piano chords filling the silence, wrapping around us like velvet.
She looked back at me, her lips parted, cheeks flushed, hair scattered across the pillow. “Move with the rhythm of the music,” she breathed.
Fuck! What kind of virgin is this dominating and seductive?
The thought of me being the only man that have ever done this to her made me proud, I flowed with the rhythm of the music and kissing her passionately as I dug deeper, every touch deliberate.
Her voice broke against mine, “Don’t stop…” and I pressed my forehead to hers, whispering back, “Never.”
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