Crazy.
Sexy.
Beautiful.
Hot.
Mine.
Fuck.
I don't know how, but he is.
I wake up in the morning and see him next to me and I have to pinch myself.
I have to remind myself that he is not a dream, but a dream come true.
He's sleeping now, his perfectly tanned body coiled up beside me.
His hair curls around his ears and his long eyelashes flutter as his eyes move rapidly back and forth.
I wonder what he's dreaming.
The corners of his mouth turn up into a smirk and I know he is happy.
I can't resist touching him.
The smoothness of his skin under my fingertips is a sensation I have committed to memory.
I can conjure it up at any moment, yet I need to remind myself of it on a daily - no, hourly - basis.
Looking at him like this, touching his silken hair, watching his pink lips smile against his caramel colored skin, I suddenly feel the need.
My sketchbook is always right next to the bed so I don't have to risk waking him.
I turn past page after page of sketches - all of him.
I touch the tip of my pencil to my tongue and start to draw.
I give him angel wings.
Soft.
White.
Pure.
He is my angel.
At times my heart feels like it will burst just from the love.
His love.
My love.
Just…love.
He stirs slightly, turning onto his back, one arm across his chest, the other thrown over his head.
I turn the page and start another drawing.
This is what I do.
Love him.
Adore him.
Worship him.
Draw him.
All the world is a stage.
And he is the leading man.
He is Romeo.
Adonis.
Don Juan.
Rhett Butler.
He is everything.
My everything.
I look from my sketchpad back to his face and his eyes are open.
He blinks.
Smiles.
Reaches for me.
And I go to him.
His lips are soft and wet against mine.
His skin is smooth under my hands.
His cock is hard against my hip.
His hand is steady as he strokes me.
Cheek.
Chest.
Stomach.
Hip.
Thigh.
And finally, the throbbing heat between my legs.
He knows just how to touch me.
Where to touch me.
How to make me burn.
Beg.
Moan.
Whimper.
His hands.
His mouth.
His tongue.
Everything I want.
Everything I need.
We go from gentle drops of rain on a warm spring day to the crashing waves of the ocean in a thunderstorm.
Loving him, being loved by him - it's always the same, and yet…
Love is an adventure.
Life is an adventure.
He is as beautiful on the inside as he appears to the world.
Inside.
Where I live and die to be.
Where I pass from heaven to hell and back again.
Where I am right now.
I wish I could get inside his soul, his mind, his heart.
I know everything about him.
I know nothing at all.
Crazy.
Sexy.
Beautiful.
Hot.
Mine.