He couldn't take his eyes off her. She followed her every breath, every unnoticed movement of her face, and more so he watched more it seemed unreal, almost forbidden.
He wanted her more than the body: he wanted her look in which she was shipwrecking, her voice that
it stayed on him even in silence, la
her skin so close to becoming a constant, hot, irresistible temptation.
Sometimes you hold back so hard not to
wake her up.
But the need to polish it was stronger: the
fingers in her hair, lips just on
her shoulder, in a slow touch, held,
loaded with desire .
He was just waiting for his eyes to open...
why would it stop being a dream
and go back to being her obsession
Okpiù viva.
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