Love Letters by Shadow

1: Alex

He looked down at the floor, back up to his lover, tentative.

"Um, Alex." She nodded expectantly. "You said you didn't want me to spend money on your birthday." Bobby looked up from the floor, hoping he wasn't about to get hurt. Or worse, hurt her.

But her response was quick and genuine. He could read in her eyes and her tone of voice that she was serious, not disappointed when she she replied, "I meant it. There are more important bills to pay. Besides, Bobby, I'm turning forty, I don't really feel like celebrating."

He nodded, still shifting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. "I have a present for you anyway." And to Alex's surprise, he pulled an envelope out of his pocket and offered it to her.

Her brow furrowed in surprise as she took it. A gift certificate maybe? He'd always struck her as too original for that.

But before she could give it any further thought, he was putting on his jacket. "I have some errands to run. I shouldn't be long." He lowered his voice to a sensual whisper. "Make sure you read it when you're alone." He gave her a chaste kiss on the neck, then headed for the door.

Alex realized that the envelope in her hand was made of quality paper: It had a pleasant heft to it, as did the paper folded inside. It was, she realized, rather fancy (and expensive) parchment. She sat on her sofa, tucked her knees up under her chin, and read:

My Love,

No letter can ever express my feelings for you, but I would be a terribly neglectful lover if I did not try. I can only hope that reading this will give you a glimpse of my deepest emotions. My true desire is that this letter will make your heart beat faster behind your perfect breasts.

Your kindness is limitless; your selflessness evident in everything you do. Time and time again you have shown me your compassion. Your patience has been my savior. Where others have seen only a tangled, confused mind, and where I used to see a broken man, you see someone deserving of the most profound love any one person could ever hope to experience. Your loyalty to me has been constant, even when I did not deserve it. Your faith in me has never wavered.

I could spend a lifetime writing this letter, fill up a thousand pages and never be able to describe you in all your rapturous beauty, to describe the vision that is Alexandra Eames.

You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, inside and out. Your strength inspires me, and your courage spurs me on; makes me a better man. Your eyes show the fire in your heart and it fills me up. Your lips simply beg to be kissed, and there is nothing so sublime as the feeling of our mouths entwined, moving in perfect harmony, seamlessly. Dancing together.

Your arms tell so much about who you are. So strong, yet gentle. Your muscles, so perfectly toned, cry out for the touch of my lips. Your hands don't need to be decorated, because they tell a story. They speak of a woman who has endured, a woman more resilient than her slight frame could ever show. There is no pleasure greater than to brush my lips and hands over that lovely spot where your heart beats in your wrist. To feel it speed at my touch is an aphrodisiac. If I could arouse you even half as much as you do me, you would continually drip down those perfectly built thighs and never be sated enough.

Your breasts are a work of art. So smooth with perfect curves. They show your selflessness in their swell, speaking of the life you gave another for another. To feel the weight of them in my hand or mouth is pure ecstasy, and I touch them for all too selfish reasons. But to hear the moans tumbling from your lips as I do so would be worth torture. Instead, what I get for giving you this arousal is my own all-encompassing pleasure.

To taste you is to taste the food of the gods themselves. When I drink in your nectar, the ambrosial taste of it drives me wild. I become an animal, ravenous for your body; desperate. I crave your touch. I need to feel you beneath me, on top of me, enveloping me.

And to be buried within you is an experience so transcendent that I quake at the mere thought of it. To be allowed to delve deep into your recesses is an honor I never dreamt could be bestowed upon me. Exploring your body is a delight no mere mortal deserves. To come inside you is to believe in Heaven. Feeling our juices flowing together, mixing on our skin, completes the experience with a peaceful lull that carries me through to the deepest, most peaceful sleep I've ever known.

And tonight, if you will allow me the pleasure; the honor, I will make love to you. I will kiss every inch of your flawless skin. I will find pleasure points you didn't know you had. I will make you come, Alexandra, and you will find Eden in my arms.

I write this in hopes that you never once doubt the depths of my love for you. No one ever has or ever could make me feel this way. I love you so much it frightens me, but I know I never need to be afraid when you're near me. Defender of men. Defender of me. My pillar of strength, my solace, my heart's home.

Yours for eternity,

Robert

With a little encouragement, I could be persuaded to write what happens when Bobby comes back home. But of course to give that encouragement, you'd have to review, wouldn't you?