Inhale You

I want to inhale you.

Not the stale scent of your cologne,

which clings so valiantly to these old shirts, no

I want the sweet scent of your hot breath

when you whisper promises of sinful seduction against my cheeks,

when your 5 o’clock shadow trails goosebumps over my skin,

and scorches me from within.

I need the salty scent of your slick skin against mine

when you pin me to our sheets and grind

your hard body against my soft unyielding curves,

the smell of my desire and your strained self-control.

I want to bottle the essence of the moment

when my perfume and the tantalizing exhale of your groans mix in the air

and create electricity,

sending shock-waves with each thrust.

I need you—I want to inhale your aura

as you lay between my soft thighs and

drive me to the blue-flamed precipice of lust

again, and again, and again

unaffected by the stinging of my nails digging into your flesh—

I want to inhale you as you follow me into that blissful abyss.

I ache for the exhaled scent of my cries melting into your moans

as you fill me until I can be filled no more.

I long for the musky scent of our love-making—I long for you.

 

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