Softer Than Her Own

She drew a line down the edge of his jaw,
fingers played with the wiry grey
covering his scarred chest; her palm rested
on his shoulder, her cheek pressed to hear his heart.

His flesh, warm beneath her touch, was softer
than her own. In fascination, she watched
arousal flush across his body; his
nipples hardened, his breath became shallow

and to her delight – a moan escaped lips
brushed with her kiss. Heady with such power
she allowed her hands to wander slowly,
explored every inch of him with her mouth.

This is what love tastes like, she thought, pausing
to savor the bitter and sweet of him.