It's midnight, Wednesday and you're at his house again,
with a curled finger, he beckons you to follow him down the hall.
when he bites your lip and hits your face,
it only makes you want him more. You're his pretty little play thing, hair a mess,
lace underwear falling on the bathroom floor.
on tip-toes, you press yourself against him in his shower -
The water is so goddamn hot but you know it's only his hands burning your skin.
so you kiss and kiss and kiss him until neither of you can breathe -
your lips against his mouth is your favourite sin.
he spins you around and folds you over effortlessly,
your face pressed against the glass shower door.
When your knees are weak, he turns off the water and wraps you in his towel.
You turn to reach for your dress but his hand is on your throat and you're pinned against the hallway wall.
His eyes are wild and his teeth graze your cheek,
"bedroom" he says.
it isn't a question.
Every time he slams your body against his, heaven collapses and hell rejoices and you crave his skin just that little bit more.
This is your idea of romance -
aggressive sex, aching bones, eating ice cream from the tub together at 3am before you fall asleep, his body entwined with yours .
and when you wake in the morning, you'll kiss him softly and he'll dig fingers into your hips and you'll be Aphrodite and Adonis,
the crazed lovers,
once more...
with a curled finger, he beckons you to follow him down the hall.
when he bites your lip and hits your face,
it only makes you want him more. You're his pretty little play thing, hair a mess,
lace underwear falling on the bathroom floor.
on tip-toes, you press yourself against him in his shower -
The water is so goddamn hot but you know it's only his hands burning your skin.
so you kiss and kiss and kiss him until neither of you can breathe -
your lips against his mouth is your favourite sin.
he spins you around and folds you over effortlessly,
your face pressed against the glass shower door.
When your knees are weak, he turns off the water and wraps you in his towel.
You turn to reach for your dress but his hand is on your throat and you're pinned against the hallway wall.
His eyes are wild and his teeth graze your cheek,
"bedroom" he says.
it isn't a question.
Every time he slams your body against his, heaven collapses and hell rejoices and you crave his skin just that little bit more.
This is your idea of romance -
aggressive sex, aching bones, eating ice cream from the tub together at 3am before you fall asleep, his body entwined with yours .
and when you wake in the morning, you'll kiss him softly and he'll dig fingers into your hips and you'll be Aphrodite and Adonis,
the crazed lovers,
once more...