Wednesday, 14 May 2014

The Game(s)...

The rich aroma of the Cuban cigars, 
His scent, a concoction of aftershave, some pinewood cologne and a bit of sweat, 
The voice of KEM from the radio, 
And the heat from his palm, 
Possessively placed on her thigh, 
Intoxicated her.




He has been asking for a mere peck on the cheek the whole night, 
She had constantly said No, 
He said she was killing him, 
She smiled coyly at him, 
Batting her lashes, feigning innocence.

She wanted him as much as he wanted her, 
Or more.




He ran his hand up and down her inner thigh, 
She gasped,
Damn! 
His hands were soft, 
And hot, 
And making her lose control.

But she told him to stop, 
Again, 
He groaned, reluctantly taking his hand from her thigh, 
Whoa, he looked totally hurt, 
The spot where his hand had been burning her, 
Suddenly became cold, 
A shiver ran down her spine.

She started conjuring hot crazy images in her mind, 
Him on her, 
Her on him.

His voice brought her back to reality, 
'I'm leaving' he said.
He sounded pretty disappointed, and she knew she had taken it too far.

When he least expected it, 
She grabbed him by the collar, 
Drew his face to her, 
Met his lips, 
Drank from them as if thirsty, 
Making love to them lips, 
And tasting him over and over again.

She broke the kiss, 
Opened the car door, 
Slipped out and strode towards her apartment without a backward glance.

She knew he had not started the car, 
She knew he was staring at her, 
She smiled, swayed her hips and let herself Into her house.


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