Deborah Horton Writing

Alabaster rays highlighting only pieces of flesh. A flash of muscles and green eyes fused with the scent of sweat and sandalwood. Feeling the breath of air from the open window and your lungs as you lean closer.

Still as stone breathing in and filled with desire and dread. Your breath warm, sticky traversing exposed flesh. Waiting.

Seeing only flashes of moonlight kissed flesh, tousled hair of black curls, glistening diamond dew sweat filled sandalwood. Slightest pressure of teeth and tongue on exposed skin.

And gone as if never there. Waiting. The smell lingers still.