He is beautiful. Just fucking beautiful. He is raw masculinity and would make a sculptor long to shape him in clay. His shoulders are so wide. His back so heavily muscled; the entire plain a tapestry of tribal tattoos. He tapers, for fucks sake. His wide chest narrows over taut belly, muscled down to his groin. Lean hips and strong thighs, with a perfect little bubble butt. He has long calves, also with tattoos, and there is nothing about him that speaks of weakness or compromise.
His kiss demands response. His hands familiar and with strong arms he draws you against him so he can smell your hair and kiss your head. Fire. Liquid fire rolls from my stomach and courses through every single vein and blood vessel in my body, like bourbon pouring over ice. Unable to think or to breathe, I’ve never had a reaction like I have to this man. It’s wild fire and electric storms. It’s static shock and bursting dams. It fractures your reason and thought process, leaving me in a vortex of brilliant color and hyper awareness.