There are those nights that you both wake in the same instant—where you turn to each other in the dark, hands searching, lips aching for yet one more kiss.

The love you made earlier still clings to you, a delicate scent on your skin, a delicious memory that lingers.

Her softness is something that you never tire of, as is the urgency of her need for you. She never tires of your caress, never complains when your hands turn rough, always says please and smiles her agreement to your desires.

You are bewitched, you are lost to her—there is no road that will lead back to when you did not know her.

It is her heart that you so admire—it is tender yet devilish, compassionate and strong—it is fallen to you, and she trusts it to your care.

Now warm with sleep, you unravel her chemise, twisted around her silken body. She moans and attempts to help you while you pull it over her head and reveal to your eyes what you so desperately want.

You never tire of that moment when you see her stretched out languidly on the bed—she is a canvas for you to paint on, surrendering to your wickedness.

You want her because she looks too innocent to be loved in the way you prefer. You love her because she hides her darkness so well. You love her because she know that she owns you and pretends that she has no power at all.

It is a game you play—she allowing certain pleasures, and you pretending you have stolen them, until you open your arms wide and give her reign over your nakedness.

She loves the way you watch her as she lays her lips to your belly, hungry for the muscle you have honed just for her. She loves the curve of your mouth as you lie there amused, because her intensity in bed is something no one would expect of her.

She can be dirty as sin when she wants to be and wide eyed innocent when you ask it of her.

She’s given you so much—so many moments that spoke of her love for you that you have lost all count.

There is nothing you crave more than loving her soul deep.

She tries to wrench her ankles out of your hands when you begin to kiss her feet, your mouth warm, your tongue gentle. You blindfold keeps her guessing where the next kiss or bite or lick will be.

It is almost more than she can bear, and she asks for release, but of course you know her safe word and there will be no release until she utters that sacred word.

Upward on her inner leg, her calf, the back of her knee, the soft of her inner thigh—she cries out, and you ache to move faster but know that it’s not really your style.

Ignoring the heat of her sex, you drop licks on the smooth skin of her stomach and continue to her breasts. Now and again you allow her to feel the fullness of your weight and the pulsing craving of your love for her.

She thrusts up towards you, begging for you to enter, speaking words that have the power to drive you to madness. She knows that you won’t give in—that you will love her when you’re ready and that by then she will ripe for instant immersion into bliss.

You’ve pinned her to the bed—your teeth have left their mark on her back and your hands a mark on her bottom.

It is your words that break her and leave her gasping for air.

Because you tell her your every move before you make it.

Because you ask her for what you need, and when she gives it you growl and love her harder.

Because you truly want to see her unravel—because she knows that you will do this again, torture her sweetly.

Because when you finally enter her, she has been so prepared by your attention that she can only fall into the abyss that spreads though her like a warm fire—consuming yet nondestructive.

It is a sensation that shudders through her whole body and seeps out through the crown of her head—a spiritual ascension rising from her core, a true experience of whole body love.

When you withdraw, soaked with her pleasure, she calls for your arms around her.

You cradle her and call her your sweet thing.

You cannot know that once you fall asleep—satisfied and more in love than ever—she cradles herself around your back and takes in the smell of your skin, kisses soft on your shoulder. She is blissfully shaking—her body still experiencing the electricity that coursed through her at climax.

You cannot know that her tears are part of experiencing your love in this way—that her heart aches because it is so full of your connection. She cannot sleep because she will lie beside you, absorbing your aura for hours.

This is sacred. This is what happens when sex transcends the physical.

Loving her soul deep is the  gift you give to her.

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Relephant: 

Waking Up Next to You.

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Author: Monika Carless

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: Flickr/thatsbreathtaking