Wanting

I want you badly.

I want to spend the night underneath you, feeling your hands all over me, your mouth on mine, my legs spread open to accommodate you. I want to see the look of hunger in your eyes, alternating with the look of wonder and surprise. I want to hear your voice, telling me you can’t believe this is happening, incredulity marking every whisper.

I want you inside me. I want you pushing in slowly, taking your time, filling me up. I want you moving inside me as your mouth continues exploring me, as your hands find my curves and crevices.

I want your mouth moving down to my breasts, to my hips, to my thighs, to my pussy, eating me like there’s no tomorrow, then slowing down as if savoring every lick.

I want you so badly.

I want your smile and your laugh, your random questions and your stories. I want you dropping with exhaustion after you cum, and rolling off me then pulling me close, like you already want me again. I want you holding me, stroking my hair and kissing the top of my head, like there’s more to this than this amazing night. I want your hands stroking my skin gently, as if we were just cozying up on the sofa while watching TV.

I want you.

I want you calling me baby, and love, and all the other things. I want you for drinks on Friday night, and holding my hand while we walk, and posting my picture on Instagram.

I want you, and it’s bad. I want you even if, or maybe because, I can’t have you.