She puts her hair in a bun.
Rolls her eyes,
Rubs oil down her leg, licks her lip and stares at me.
Tension as thick as her thighs.
We are screaming at each other with pounding hearts,
And goose bumps, begging for a release.
No words said.
She lays down, aggressively tosses the pillow at me,
I think my looking away made her feel naked.
This is my favorite moment when we fight.
I walk towards her in anger,
Thinking how no other lover keeps my interest like she does.
I don’t like it. She’s good.
I try to get on top of her; she pushes me.
I pin both her hands down, spread her legs,
but she folds them back.
Smiles and shakes her head “no”.
She always makes me wait; I don’t like it. It works.
Her body is trembling,
Her thighs can’t stay still,
She’s ready but won’t let me in.
She’s talking back at me, very rude, very loud,
Scratching me, cussing at me,
She has my heart.
I want her soul.
But right this moment what I want more than anything else is to watch her explode, harder than her whole shivering body can take.
“Stuff my mouth”, she says.