Those words. Your words.
Almost like fingertips across my skin.
Almost the warm breath against my throat.
Almost the slide of flesh against flesh.
Tell me again even as you show me.
The pressure at the edge of control.
Unraveling bit by bit.
Almost enough to taste you on my skin.
Turning my words into your name.
On bated breath, hard and heavy.
Give me more, always more.
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