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Click hereStolen
The most succulent moments are
the stolen ones.
A glance.
A kiss.
A midnight tryst.
The rib-slamming heart beats
wrack my chest.
Breathless.
I'm weak.
Can't speak.
The lines are blurred, where you begin,
I end.
Back arched.
You atop.
Can't stop.
Fever coursing through
my veins.
Red hot.
You burst.
My thirst.