La petite mort – 100 words

Lips to lips, his tongue wrote a love letter that only she could read. Long strokes through the parted pathways, her nails digging into the sheets, reading every word he confessed. Inaudible sounds ricocheted through the room. For a moment, she was blinded by the passion that spilled onto her skin. Whimpers, cries, statements of forever, his teeth raked the last peach of the summer. Delectable nectar filling his mouth, the flood of juices drowning his soul the moment she weakened with a loss of consciousness. If death was eternal, this was the beauty that would stop his heart forever.

A.J. Luna

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