I will kiss the skin of your cheek, to wash off the scent of that woman who touched it earlier tonight.
I will suck the taste of this woman's hand off of your fingers, reclaiming what's mine and what isn't hers.
I will kiss your ear, and whisper our words to you and my fingers would undress your skin and undress your soul.
I will leave prints of my existence all over your soul, and I will carefully leave my mark on you.
You are mine, Tommy Shelby. You are mine, now and forever and if you forget, I will make sure you remember.
I will welcome you inside of me, and you will remember, once entrapped within my constricting wet walls, that the laughter she had meant nothing to you. You will remember, as I massage your length with my soft walls, that her touch meant nothing but a one-sided desire from her.
I am not worried. I know you're loyal to me. I am not worried but I do not like to watch others touch you, grab you, try and snatch you away from me. I don't like that they taunt you, and try to remind you that you tend to see elsewhere, that you're lost? Don't worry, baby. I am here.
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