musings

Everything about her was perfection. The sultry smile she wore beneath hazy green eyes, the way she moaned his name, the way her body writhed and trembled under his attention. Outside of this room, she was the one who called the shots, and he couldn't say he minded that - but there was nothing better than to have her crumbling beneath him like this.

Heaven. Unraveling inside her as she reached her own climatic peak, Oliver almost couldn't believe his luck. Exhausted from blood loss and sex, he collapsed gracelessly beside her and pulled her breathless form back against his chest. It was no more of an affectionate action as it was a possessive one...this was not love, he reminded himself: she did not know of such an emotion, nor did he.