The taste of his skin on my teeth had never tasted so sweet. Our bodies intertwined, my lips move from his lips to his neck. Traces of warm spice and amber invigorated my senses with each euphoric peck down his chest until I reached his puckered navel. As I reached up to grasp his nipple, our eyes met. The man’s lapis eyes glistened like the surface of a crystal clear lake on a moonlit night, and it was at that moment that I realized he didn’t just want me. He needed me, at least as much as I needed him.
He must have sensed my infatuation, because before I could whisper three delicate words, he had me pinned beneath him. His callused hands held mine to the side as we became one. Every thrust sent us closer to the threshold until finally his porcelain face tensed. If I couldn’t have heard the grandfather clock ticking from the living room, I would have swore our love had stopped time.
His masculine frame collapsed beside me, twitching ever so gently from my seductive touch. “You like that?” I whispered. No answer.
So I repeated: “Did you like that?” Not a sound came from the beautiful man who had just finished inside me.
With a flash, I turned on the bedisde lamp and frantically turned to him – his eyes were just as colorless as his skin. I had lain with a caramel king and rose with a gutted ghoul.
I wiped the tears from my face, and with them my perfectly painted beauty mask. Hours of makeup preparation for the big night was ruined, the love of my life gaped before me an awestruck, bare corpse.
“Well, shit,” I thought, sitting up on the bed, my tears chapping my cheeks. “This makes number four.” There was no way I could explain this one to the judge.