Her lost companion


She yearned for him.

If only she could experience, once again, the sweet smell of his skin, the feel of his tender lips on hers or the sound of his husky voice; drifting seamlessly into the early hours of the morning.

She longed to kiss him again, slowly and softly.

Lying in the uncomfortable stillness of the night, her subconsciousness would succumb to the dangerous wanderings of her mind. She would fantasise of biting his bottom lip and sucking on his long fingers, playfully and seductively. She longed to trail her fingertips down his athletic figure, and to delicately press her lips against each inch of his unfathomably soft skin.

She could feel him now only in her dreams, and so, despite the promise of waking up to the harsh reality of his absence each morning, she would meet him in there, in her thoughts, night after night.

With oceans between them, these memories – passionate, desperate and torturous – were all that remained of her lost companion.



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