When my lips met his, nothing in this world mattered but him and I. All the grievances we had in the couple of days were long forgotten, for now.
Now I regretted wearing this goddess awful, fitting long dress. None of my skin was touching his. I wanted contact, to feel his skin against mine. I craved him, for a moment I felt like I could die without his touch, die without him.
Within myself I knew it wasn't normal to feel like this, especially, when I knew very well what he said to me days prior. He was not mine, and I was not his, in two days time he would be gone, and I had to live my life without him.
Instead of that thought breaking off the trance I was in, it made me more clingy, horny.
"I want more. Touch me" I demanded, and he growled on my neck, his mouth living hickies eve
