Grunge Soul | Luke Hemmings Smut
Serene. Cold. Calm. Breezy. The dark musty color of clouds, striking a bolt of lightning against the cold window pane. The pitter-patter of the rain hitting the ground putting you into deeper sleep. The cold gush the air of the ceiling fan is giving you utter peace. The feeling the dark red silky sheets between your naked thighs enlighten your sleeping body. Him. The feeling of him. His body. His spirit. His aroma. The feeling of him between your legs. The feeling his chest heaving up and down, hearing his heartbeat, as you lay on top of him in exhaustion. Just him. Him.
down deep into your soul my hands creped up your spine then towards your heart , your desperation is turning me more and more on. Keep kissing my neck and you'll see what happens next.