Exquisite Love

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drop.

Her arm hung over the side of the table, water droplets rolling off her finger tips and crashing to the floor. Her hand was too limp to stop them. I had to wash her, gently. The dirt on her face and arms only served as a reminder of what happened. It tainted her beauty. I didn’t want to remember her that way.

Silk. That’s what I felt when my hand brushed her skin and she deserved to be dressed in nothing less. I slipped the fabric over her body with care, watching as it slid and wound around her curves, stopping at her smooth and defined thighs. Her now white skin glowed against the black fabric, complimented by the lace along the hem of her dress. A dress that was almost as beautiful as she was.

Do you like what I bought you? Don’t worry, I won’t look.

This dress was much better than what she was wearing before. Her jeans were dirty and her cheap shirt was ripped in multiple places from the initial struggle. She had reminded me of an insect who had outgrown its shell, struggling to break out. I carefully peeled away that shell, relieving her of that burden. I set her free.

The skin stretching over her body was not flawless, but that was my fault. She had bruises on her arms, stomach and knees which were the result of me not being careful enough. She was impeccable before I touched her. I regretted my actions, but at the time I had no choice.

She had almost gotten away.

I ran a comb through her luscious hair, gently taking out any knots or imperfections. The strands were a deep brown, like her eyes and still shiny when any small amount of light hit them. It was thick. Full. I couldn’t help but touch it with my bare hand again, letting my fingers feel the soft locks slip between them.

I wish I didn’t have to keep you in the dark.

Her hair was the first thing I noticed about her. I stared at it for hours on end as it hung there, teasing and taunting me. She would run a hand through it and I would be washed over with a wave of her sweet scent. Strawberries. Mango. Mint. It was different almost every day.

She smelled like peaches the day I held her limp body in my arms. It was intoxicating.

Red was the colour I decided to paint her nails. I held her small hand in mine, washing away the blood from underneath her fingernails. Trimming the broken ones before applying the polish carefully. My movements were slow, consistent and precise. She deserved nothing less. I glanced at the purple bite indentation on my hand as I finished off the nail on her index finger. She had almost broken the skin.

You know you hurt me? Don’t worry, how could I not forgive you?

The only make up that she needed was some powder on her face, and stain on her lips. She was stunning just the way she was. Her features were flawless, her eyelashes long and full. Her lips were red and plump and her cheek bones smooth and defined.

You’re ready now.

I loved her. I remember telling her this. Confessing it into her ear as I held her struggling body against mine. Confining her screams to only me. Pressing my lips against her cheek. The taste of her salty skin took a hold of my senses and shook me, starting at my lips and making their way to my groin.

Open your eyes. I want you to look at me while I’m touching you.

Her deep brown eyes were filled with fear the last time I looked into them. Fear was gone now, replaced with something else.

She now wanted me as much as I wanted her.

Smile for me. Tell me if this feels good.

My palm slid up her smooth leg. Her cold knee. Massaged the flesh of her thigh. My fingers touched the hem of her dress.

May I?

I took a deep breath, biting my lip. My hand slid under her dress.

I looked down at her. She stared up at me and smiled.

You feel so good.