Rough Touch

His hands, rough and calloused from laborious days, contrasted sharply with the softness of her skin. Each touch was a claim, a branding of ownership that she willingly surrendered to. She reveled in the feel of him, the primal roughness of his hands as they roamed her body.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and possessive. His lips found hers in a searing kiss, a kiss that was as raw and unyielding as the hands that held her. She could taste the desire in him, a desire that mirrored her own.

Her body trembled with anticipation as his rough hands traced a path along her delicate skin. The contrast between his calloused touch and her softness was striking, and she reveled in the feel of him claiming her with each stroke. His fingers danced along her collarbone, sending shivers down her spine and causing her to gasp with pleasure.

With a growl, he pulled her close, their bodies colliding in a heated embrace. His lips found hers in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep into her mouth and exploring every inch. She could feel his desire for her, raw and primal, and it only served to fuel her own desires.

His hands roamed over her body, kneading and caressing every curve and hollow. She arched into him, offering herself up to him completely. He took full advantage, his fingers finding her most sensitive spots and teasing them mercilessly.

She moaned into his mouth as he trailed his lips down her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin. His hands continued their exploration, sliding down to cup her bottom and pull her even closer. She could feel his hard length pressing against her, and she ached to feel him inside her.

His hands continued to explore, claiming every inch of her body as his own. She responded in kind, her own hands tracing the lines of his muscular arms, the ridges of his chest. She marveled at the strength contained within him, the raw power that he exuded.

He wasted no time, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed. Laying her down gently, he began to undress her, his fingers lingering on each bit of exposed skin. She watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she waited for him to take her.

When she was finally naked before him, he paused to drink in the sight of her. She was a vision, her body flushed with desire and her eyes wide and needy. He couldn’t resist any longer, and he climbed onto the bed, covering her body with his own.

With a low growl, he pulled her closer, his hands tangling in her hair as he claimed her mouth in a fierce, passionate kiss. She moaned against his lips, her hands exploring the hard planes of his chest and stomach.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze never leaving hers as he guided himself to her entrance. They both groaned as he thrust into her, her body stretching to accommodate him. The feeling was intense, overwhelming, and she could feel her body responding desperately to his.

They moved together in a primal dance, their bodies slapping together in a rhythm as old as time. His thrusts were powerful, almost punishing, as he drove into her again and again. She could feel her orgasm building, her body tightening around his cock as her breath hitched.

“Come for me,” he growled, his voice low and husky in her ear. It was all the encouragement she needed. With a cry, she shattered around him, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over her.

He followed soon after, his own release set off by her climax. He thrust into her one final time, his body shuddering as he filled her. They stood there, panting and trembling, their bodies still intimately connected.

As they reached their climax, she could feel the intensity of his grip on her, the possessiveness that bordered on obsession. And she welcomed it, welcomed the feeling of being completely and utterly his.

In that moment, there was no past, no future, only the present. Only the two of them, entwined in a dance of passion and desire. Only the feel of his hands on her body, claiming her, possessing her. Only the knowledge that she was his, and he was hers.

And as they lay there, spent and satisfied, she knew that this was more than just a moment of passion. It was a moment of primal connection, of two souls coming together in a union that was as fierce as it was tender. It was a moment that she would cherish forever, a moment that would be seared into her memory as a reminder of the power of love, the power of passion, and the power of being claimed.

© Seductive Poetry