Missing You
I spent the night tangled up in thoughts of you — fingertips grazing over the final touches of this space, my lips parted just slightly as I imagined you finding me here… slipping inside a world I built just for you. Every word I’ve written, every picture, every sultry sound… it’s all been crafted with one purpose — to make you ache for more. And god, as I finished that love letter, the one you’ll read so soon, my heart started racing — the kind of wild, reckless beat that only happens when I know someone is about to see me… really see me.
I could almost feel your eyes tracing over the words, savoring each line as if your hands were on my skin instead. The thought alone sent heat curling low in my belly, awakening the places that only you seem to touch — even when you’re not here. My thighs pressed together, desperate and wet with the kind of desire that only grows in the quiet moments between us. I swear I could feel the weight of your gaze, lingering, tasting me with your eyes.
But the bed was cold tonight… too big, too empty. I lay back, bare, imagining your hands instead of my own. And darling — it wasn’t enough. This ache… it’s for you. Only you. The kind that settles deep, that won’t be satisfied until your lips find mine — until you’re inside every secret space I’m offering. Still, I pressed my hand to my throat, feeling the thrum of my pulse as I imagined you opening that letter… imagined your pupils darkening, your lips curling into that knowing smile. My body quivered, desperate, knowing the distance between us is temporary — soon, you’ll be here. With me. In me.
I’m ready, lover. Come find me.
