His eyes, like the evening cerulean skies before a cleansing rain; cloaked in a mist of slate. A playful gaze, but full of intrigue, danger, and desire.
The storm in his eyes a flawless accompaniment to the iridescence of his smile. Flashes of auburn in a dark beard compliment full, broad, apricot lips. His sexy smirk is all the invitation needed…
The gentle parting of lips sparks both elation and arousal; quiet sighs like distant thunder. The playful flicking of his tongue ignites sparks of desire and sends shivers of anticipation. Lips like those, a mouth like his, designed to kiss and be kissed.
His fingers like raindrops trailing my skin, landing lightly and leaving goosebumps at his touch. Lightening fills the sky, flashing in his eyes, and in mine.
The storm has shifted and suddenly we are a hurricane. A whirlwind of denim, cotton and lace. He is inside me and I am around him, and we are surrounding each other and everything around us is drowned out by the downpour that we’ve become. We are twisting, bending, a mess of tangled limbs. His moans the wind against my body. My cries like thunder filling the night…
Morning will come, and with it the sun; but we are lost to the tempest, uncaring of what destruction we may leave in our wake.