Longing for his touch. His body between my thighs, kissing my belly as he finds his way to my lips, moist with excitement. I long for the smell of his skin. And the musk that lingers on his skin after a long day.
I miss the way he looks at me, as if I he’s starving. Needing my body, my soul to fill him. His voice, telling me I’m beautiful, or that his t shirt looks sexy on me.
It’s his kiss, the tongue dancing kisses I miss the most. Our mouths entangled in a passionate embrace. Neither of us wanting to break the contact first. Tongues pushing back and forth between our mouths, teeth gently tugging on lips. Both gasping for air once we come up.
My bed is empty without him, my heart heavy. More than I need his body, I need his mind. Casual conversations or the intense emotional depths we often reach fuel me. Laid up between his legs, his hands brushing through my hair talking for hours. No topic left untouchable. Sex with words. Passion even without the embrace.
Needing him to come back to soothe me. To relax the restlessness I feel. Aching for his breath on my skin. I wait, hoping he will return…