Mouth dry, throat tight.
In His grip.
Breathless.

Singular Y.
Unadorned.
Standing.
Towering, over me.
Nothing but the enduring aura of dominance with which to cast His spell.

Anticipation builds, restless heart and flustered mind.

Under His gaze I find myself trapped, spellbound.
He’s the big bad and I’m the virgin.
Untouched, curious, drawn to Him, small, unable to meet His predatory eye.

I want a taste, but I daren’t.
Touch.
Electrifying, overpowering, my legs are weak.

This is how He makes me feel every damn time He’s close to me.