Echo of Touch

Echo of Touch

by MissT

Don’t tell me you don’t want this.
Your eyes already gave you away.
I could walk out now—untouched,
but still smoldering from the echo of your hands.
You don’t see the fire you’ve lit in me—
not just heat, but hunger and weight.
I could break you with a whisper,
but instead, I give you just enough to make you need more.
Every taste is a dare,
every touch like a jolt of lightning along my spine.
And still, I leave.

> His touch left me wanting more.
My skin tingles at the thought.
His velvet mouth, those deep, wet kisses—
where he ends and I begin, I don’t know.
He sees me—not just my eyes,
but all the dark I try to hide.
His gaze feels like truth.
He smiles, and I unravel.
I am useless to resist,
folding under the weight of his passion.
The softness of his hair brushes my thigh,
and I forget how to say no.

> The linger of his touch holds me
in a warm, breathless haze,
long after he is gone.
The sheets still smell of him—
earthy, masculine, familiar.
The sun begins to rise
as I breathe him out slowly,
his memory steeped in morning light.
This will never be just a moment.
It’s a forever kind of flame.