Stir it

Enigma VS Madonna - The Enigma Within  (okay so begin to read when the music begins)

The soft stir held in the sway of her hips soft movement.  Soft skin danced at the edge of the light.  Her eyes posed a question that he longed to answer.  But could he?  Did all have to be known.  What did he know?  His eyes were tempted by her dance.  The full treasure hinted in the promise of soft gyration of her hips, only a step away.  All the while her smile, bore, her longing for more.  Closer.

Her hair.  The gentle toss captured.  Locks flowing, bracing, emphasizing the glory of her face.  The fullness of her lips.  The perfection of her chin.  Jutting forward.  The fullness of her body.  Jutting forward.  Her desire.  Jutting forward.  The silent and feeble camouflage of her hips pressing in their soft slow flow playing a mere distraction to the desire dripping from her lips.

Half smile hidden in a momentary turn away. Movements fractured, frozen, in time.  Tame transforms to wild as the pulse beats slowly, Move to move, moment to moment, transfixing only on the next.  Reactions reflecting only the call of the primal.  They touch.

Moments burn eternal in the heat of the kiss.  The entry into paradise leaves both longing.  The bucking press.  The press of his hands against her face as his lips tasted her burning desire.  The dance of electric bodies caught in the whirlwind.  The ballet of contrasts, the hard against the soft,  The burning agony combined with the delight of the ecstasy.  As mouths continued to speak the language of love unspoken each to each, his hands sought out her soft, her hands lingered low.

The glancing blow, the grace, her rising reaction to his touch.  The close of her eyes, the surrender.  

In the moment they would live eternal.

He pulled her close.  His hands ran along her waist, dipping down,  His hands felt the muscular rise.  He pulled her close.  He felt the heat rising.  He longed to be consumed just as she, she longed to consume him.  The soft slide, inside, followed by the rise.  He felt the heat rise in a simmering boil.  His hand drew near, the subtle retreat, only to draw even closer.  Her eyes closed as lips laden with desire, softly parted.  Waiting only for the burning contact.  So soft, so slow.  The soft circiling followed by the gentle press.  Again.  Again.  Again.

Stoking the consuming fire.