Marsha E. Newman
That Kiss . . .
I can be yours, lover, but not at so easy a price
Your scent inflames the part of my brain where sex dwells
Your touch electrifies and sends shivers across my flesh
I blush and goosebump as I gaze into you intensely-watching,
Waiting for the right moment to swoop down and claim you as my own. A chaste cheek kiss will not do; a quick lip kiss fails to satisfy.
So when will our lips meet and linger, parting flesh, opening the
warmth, the wetness, the hot desire that burns within? In yesteryear, the ache was so intense it parched my very soul.
I emerged burnt, charred ...