by Anonymous

If she knew, she would leave.

Never would he be allowed to marvel at the size of her small hands when they sit in his or compare the lily smoothness of her skin to his coarser leather.

Never would he take her hair between his fingers and rub the cornsilk curls over his thumb like a flower petal, releasing their fragrance in order to inhale her sweetness and intoxicate himself with it.

Never would he slake his hunger through her mouth or bury his nose in the soft hollow of her throat just to hear her pulse fluttering there.


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