I’m ashamed to admit I broke quarantine, but I don’t regret it for a second. He knew what I wanted, there were no illusions about why I showed up at his doorstep. There never are. And god, he delivered. More than ever before. He devoured me as if I was the first meal he’d encountered in weeks. In those moments, I was the only thing he could possibly think about, and it showed. My body made him completely crazy, and he treated it in kind. I wanted to drown myself in the beads of sweat that dripped from his brow onto my ribs. It was a miracle that my legs were able to carry me out of that room. It’s been days since, and still my toes curl at the thought of it. If he could hear the moans I slip out in my bedroom, they would be familiar to him. If only he knew the name my lips call out for when I find myself alone in the night. My entire body reacts to the sound of his name, the thought of his voice. He has ruined me, and he has no idea what he has done. It is late now, and as I remind myself of his touch I cannot help but whisper his name into the darkness, praying that the city carries my plea to the ears of the man who has overtaken me.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gdt41y/its_late