His hands combed softly through my hair in long, fluid strokes.
Section by section, the strands were smoothed back and gathered.
Gentle fingers teased the damp tendrils away from my cheeks.
Face exposed, visibility improved, his grip tightened at my neck.
Caress morphed to guidance, to command.
Smooth to powerful to forceful.
Cherished. Led. Controlled.
2 comments:
How sweet it is!
-H
:-)
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