Tangled. Twisted. Tied up by your words.
Tongue coaxing the last thought from my brain while fingers expose more than just skin.
You know just the way to unravel me, expose me all the way to the core.
Shiver and shake.
Fingers wrapped in your hair, hold steady when you demand I use you.
Can’t look.
Too much.
The feel too right.
Coiled and ready to detonate in record time.
You’re too good at this – I cry as I flood that pretty tongue.
Do it again and again until I beg for mercy.
