As the night grew young, my lips touched her and I loved how she tasted like red wine— sweet and honest from the very first sip. I watched her drift apart and she soon brought the dark red wine bottle from the table to bed. She poured it in a glass, slow and seductive; I struggled to take my eyes off her. I wanted not to be obvious, but still, from the inside— I craved for more.
She slowly ran her fingers across the wine glass, and while handing it over to me she did the same to my stubbled cheek. Slowly she turned towards my cold and numb body, and filled it with fire of anticipation. Her smooth skin felt like soft petals of white roses pressed against my body, which delicately awakened every inch of me as I lay beside her.
Soon I had her wrapped around me, her hands grazing through my chest and her breath slowly burning my skin. I held her as close as I could, and saw myself in her deep black eyes. And then we danced to our heartbeats as if we were just one heart, one body, one soul. At that moment, I came to know her as I never had.
By the time we exhausted each other and settled in each other’s arms, the tip of her pink tongue had become red and my lips wet from her kisses. And I still remember her every kiss, the first or the last; they left a long lasting taste on my memory. Drunk on love and passion we fell asleep, hoping that when we wake up in the morning, the bottle of craving won’t be empty.
When I woke next to her that morning, I found her still fast asleep in my arms. And I asked myself shall I quietly sneak out of the bed, or I needed more. Was I still intoxicated, or have I become addicted to her. But when I looked at her innocent face, her closed eyes; I knew she wasn’t thinking anything like me. And it made me so peaceful.
I smiled at her and closed my eyes again, knowing that I could still feel her taste on my lips and not of the wine. The wine bottle remained half-filled on the floor. I won’t need it anymore, I have her.
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