Don't talk to me. I didn't ask for your words. Just do what you are told, and I will make you smile. But it's not about you. Sorry to let you down. There are certain perks to this longing and I am sure you can figure them out. Why so soft, I won't break, I can't feel it if you don't cut deeper. This is not the time for cuddling. I need to feel your breaking point. I want to taste your power. Scream if I tell you, hold back if I don't. Let me control you. Can you do that? Can you close your eyes and be hunted by a masterful predator? Your hands are trembling because you are in love. This is not about love. I didn't ask you to love me tonight. I need you on your knees. Bleeding for me. Yearning so deeply that your mind erases everything you know about making love. We can make love tomorrow. Tonight you tear into me ravenously and I you. Look me in the eyes and tell me what you want. I will laugh. I will lick my lips and devour you. I will cut you with my tongue, each muscle throbbing at the sensation of my heat. I will look up at you with the eyes of an angel, using the touch of the devil. You will feast at my alter and drink me in slowly. Feel each ripple flow through me. Add to the wetness you have produced. Now fall. Just breathe. Grip your hands around my waist and throw me down. All strength is gone. Sleep well.
Tomorrow we will make love.