WARNING: If you are in any way related to me please stop reading NOW. I warned you.
There is one aspect of our fucked up interactions that is still perfect. There are still some things you do better than anyone else. Most of those things involve a certain level of nudity, but I digress. It's wrong and I know it. I shouldn't give in to you easily. I should play hard to get. I should make you want me more and drive you insane with lust. I try, honestly I do, but I just can't. You trace invisible lines alone the inside of my thighs and my willpower crumbles.
I crave you. Every minute of every day. Long ago, when I was the only one worthy of your attentions, our bodies learned to speak a secret language. We've forgotten the words our lips used to whisper in the dark, but like some prehistoric cave drawings, those same words are etched into the deepest layers of our skin. While we can't seem to remember to say kind words to each other, we are more than kind between the sheets. Actually, its very rare that sheets are involved.
If there is one thing I love about you its that you're just as kinky as I am. Every time we devour each other with all the anger and passion we normally hold back, I end up covered in bruises and bite-marks. "Branding me", as you call it. I'll confess that I love how they look on the most delicate parts of my skin almost as must as I love you leaving them there. Somehow you always know the perfect moment. Just as my body quite literally begs for it, you yank my hair back and sink your teeth into the most strategic pieces of flesh. In those moments, I see stars. I leave my body and enter some ethereal zone of complete pleasure. My soul feeds itself on the pure ecstasy of it all. Of course my weak mortal being is not up to the task. More often than not, you leave me a panting, trembling, a sweaty naked mess that has still not regained consciousness.
I love feeling you watch me as if you were admiring your conquest. Some where deep inside you there's a part that truly revels in seeing me like that. It confirms what my lips refuse to admit. No matter how much shit I talk, you're still the best. Number one with a fucking bullet darling. However, I ask that you please ignore this and continue to fuck me like you got something to prove. It's just so much better that way.
Love,
Nat
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