Autumn doesn’t just wrap the world in gold.
It crawls under my skin.
Makes me ache.
I feel his presence before I hear him.
The slow press of his body against mine.
Warm. Solid. Unyielding.
His hands finding my hips.
Grip!
Everything else disappears.
His breath skimming my neck.
Slow. Wild. Hot.
Then…… “Baby, you’re mine.”
His words slide down my spine.
Velvet. Heavy. Honey.
My pulse trips.
I lean back.
He doesn’t move.
His hold tightens
Slow, certain. Possessive.
The air thickens.
My breath catches.
The world folds into this:
His breath. His hands. Me.
A sound escapes from my throat
soft, needy, helpless
like a kitten’s purr.
Not a plea. A surrender.
Drowsy.
Consumed.
His.
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