That look in his eyes. A storm brewing, kicking up the wind, headed right for her. Run for cover, or be consumed by its power.
She succumbs.
He is hungry, and she gladly offers up a feast. Lips, tongue, fingers. He devours her, and it is the sweetest surrender. And yet,
More.
Reaching for him, guiding, granting entry, pulling, and again those eyes. They are dangerous, she knows, but she surges forward despite…
You could break me into a million tiny pieces, she thinks.
And he does.