Page 103 of Rome: The Ballerina

She was the calmest chaos I’d ever encountered. The good kind that caused confusion and clarity simultaneously. She was a subtle storm.

She was covered in chocolate from her head to her toe. The white of her eyes, the gold lock on her shoe and the perfectlywhitened teeth helped identify parts of her in the darkness. She blended effortlessly with the night. Her threads melted against her skin.

Goddamn, baby girl.

I straightened my posture and cleared my throat. She made a nigga want to straighten up. Step up. Shut up. And, put up.

I moved closer, needing a closer encounter with the mythical creature of my wildest imagination. She smelled like vanilla. And, honey. And, citrus. And, a garden. And, horny.

I stepped back, putting a full foot between us. My manhood had gotten the signal from my nostrils. Her arousal was as pleasant as her perfume. It quickly became my favorite fragrance.

My blood rushed to my shaft, stiffening it instantly. It was inevitable, so pretending my rigidness didn’t exist wasn’t in my plans. Her eyes fell, acknowledging what she’d done. Through hazy orbs, she sighed. Her tongue exited her mouth and swiped from one side of those oversized lips to the other. My semen was summoned. I suppressed it with a long exhale. I pulled my right hand down my cheek, leaning my head toward the left.

“Saint.”

The faint sound that escaped her mouth made my heart explode in my chest. The pressure was far too great. The tightness finally subsided, but I had an entirely new mess on my hands.

“Rome,” I exclaimed, taken back by her beauty.

Her flawlessness.

Her charm.

Her ability to capture parts of me that had never been explored.

Her magnetic energy.

Her nature.

Her fragility.

Her gentleness.

Her tenderness.

Her quietness.

Her spirit.

Her.

I stepped forward again, unable to contain my gratitude for her willingness to spend time with me tonight. Uninterrupted time. Personal time. Time alone.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening.” She nodded, breath caught in her throat.

She swallowed though there was nothing in her mouth. While I could think of at least one thing that belonged there, it wasn’t. Not yet.

Sac. I chastised, recentering myself.

Each time I saw her pretty, blemish-free face, it became more difficult to restrain myself. Intimacy beyond the bedroom was my current interest, but she made it harder and harder to think of anything other than those long legs on my shoulder and my face buried between them.

“You’re beyond this world, Rome.”

I shook my head, taking her in for the second time.

“If perfect was a person.”

---