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Your lips are much to mobile
as they graze over mine; they’re
too warm and too hungry. My
shoulder rises, not with rejection
to the way your lips lay claim—
possessively, blatantly, tantalizingly—
but in defense of my sensibilities,
which I seem to lose as those twins
press that sensitive place under my
ear and onto nape as they seek a
favorable response, as they cause my
knees fold, making them unable to
hold me erect under your mouth’s
continued incendiary demonstration.
It ‘s never been my experience
to lose control of my breath, not
until your mouth would accept
nothing but submission from
mine, until I accepted the promise
of a conflagration so intense
it would promise to consume me,
seize my lungs in a grasp of
desire beyond words, beyond thought,
beyond heaven. And when your tongue
found its sheath in my throat,
my world fell away, the room
ceased to exist, and there was
only us locked together in some
unrelenting drive to assuage a
passion suddenly more powerful
than the two of us.
My hands cavil.
Shocking me, they take purchase
of your cheeks to maintain our
mouths in bondage while I attempt
to rein in my desire; but, instead, I
lose what little clarity I’d retained.
Ensnared by the white heat of lust,
objections to your copious kisses,
which trail paths from shoulder to
bosom, transform to ash. I quell an
unhelpful, appreciative shiver.
Breathing...it’s now a secondary
consideration; what breath I
manage to draw comes from you.
All propriety is lost when your
onslaught continues; any will
to resist your predatory smile
is vanquished as you devote long moments
to showing me — to lay before me
a landscape of what is to come —
I respond, gasping into the kiss.
I let my reins go.
I am yours.