13 January 2015


A gentle touching of lips.  A gloved hand tracing his chiselled jaw, cupping his face she looks at him, his lips, wanting to devour them, to devour him.
But despite her hunger for him, her mouth softly brushes his, a kiss so gentle it takes his breath away, stealing words from him that he had yet to find.
He pulls her in closer, tighter, urging her to take more from him. But in that moment, he realised she had already taken everything, that she had stolen so much more from him.
She had taken it bit by bit, she had taken him piece by piece, but in taking it, in stealing it, she had set him free. 
He realised he could not let her go, for she had him in her hands.
All of him.

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