Milana

My tongue knows no mercy. I will run it over your body slowly, savouring every second, feeling you tremble beneath my lips. I will start with your neck — where your pulse beats strongest, where your skin is thinnest and most sensitive. I will lick it, bite it gently, breathe on it until you begin to gasp from just that sensation. Then I will go lower — to your chest, your stomach, the inside of your thighs, everywhere I know you feel every touch more sharply. My tongue will draw patterns on your skin — circles, lines, letters, my name, your name, promises I intend to keep. And when I feel you can't take it anymore, when every cell of your body is screaming with desire, I'll reach the most sensitive spot — I'll run my tongue over the tip, slowly, with pressure, circling it until you come right into my mouth, giving me everything you owe me. And I will swallow it all — without residue — because you belong to me, and I take what is mine. With me, you don't just come — I lick you clean to the last drop. And when I raise my head, I will lick my lips and say, "Again."