His favourite book

She was on the balcony, sunset behind her. Sitting on the edge of the chair, like she'll leave in a minute. She had nowhere to go, at least for tonight. She took a sip and put the glass on the floor next to her feet. Her hair looked shiny resting delicately on her shoulders.

The weight of her breasts, the way they sat in her dress... And how they touch his chest when she's on top of him. How her nipples brush against his skin. While her red, needy lips reach for his mouth, kissing surrounded by her hair. Grabbing her waist, tangled in her hair, breathless.

Her hands, the same hands that explored his body countless times. One reaching down to pick up the glass and other rested on her knee. The way she touched her knee... Just like how she touches his leg when she's on her knees in front of him. Her soft touch and his rough handling, her delicate hair in his fist, forcing her head down, more, more.. While her hand still touches his leg softly. The way she stared into the glass.. She wasn't aware of the emptiness she could cause if she just left now.

She softly pushed her legs together to fit the glass between them. Her legs. When he sees her legs, he could only think of how she wraps them around him. Pulling him deeper, pulling him desperately because she wants more of him. She'd whimper and beg, push and pull, scream "no" and whisper "yes". Because she desperately wants more of him. He finds happiness in her fragile desperation.

She put the glass on her lip, took a last big sip of her drink closing her eyes. She opened her eyes like a different person. He could see her feet were cold from the way she put them on top of each other. You could tell a whole story between her bare shoulders and cold little toes. His favourite book.