Siren Whispers

Siren Song


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Her Neck

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He adored her neck.

Her skin

Pale and perfect

Had the bloom of a rose

In winter.

Her neck,

With its pale elegance,

He knew

If it were possible

Would be a place of pilgrimage.

A holy site.

One that he would readily worship at

Using all of his senses.

Running his nose along to catch her scent

It’s heady fragrance making him dizzy

With desire.

Lifting her hair and using his mouth

To leave kisses along its length

Feeling her wildly beating pulse

Beneath his lips.

His teeth would graze her skin

Igniting nerve endings

Causing a bolt of desire to shoot through her.

And finally, his tongue would taste her

Her unique flavor greeting his mouth

In celebration.

Photo taken by sirensong1208