character study
Pretty.
Pretty with her full lips, soft and moist. Pretty with those feathery eyelashes, fluttering so lovely when she blinked.
Pretty when she stretched and arched on the mattress, her skin pulling thin over the wings of her ribcage and accentuating their curves.
She was dark and luminous at the same time. The shadows pooled in the dips of her clavicles. Her eyes on mine were liquid bright — wet and deep and a crepuscular copper gold behind the perfect, pretty up and down of those lashes.
She was beautiful.
Responsive and soft. So, so soft and pliant. Soft skin stretched tight over sharp bone and eyes I could drown in.
So perfect. So lovely.
Dark hair that spilled over the thin mattress like a spill of oil, gleaming. Long legs and a pouty mouth that I knew by heart. Pearlescent teeth dug deep into the meat of her lip. Cunning hands, long fingers, curled deep into the sheets.
Large, wet eyes narrowed and a mouth parted damp and breathless and God, I loved her.
I loved every pretty inch.
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