09-24-2008, 10:17 PM
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Poe had always carried an unusual brand of romance. Sweet nothings, flowers and a candle lit dinner with lovey-dovey eyes didn't do it for this chick. But with this dead man from her childhood, their paths that had never overlapped at the right time and place, lay with her, cradled in the psychic remains of a regretted history, she swooned. Floating over top of so many unspoken words and unrequited actions, her body melted slowly from hip to chest against Hollow's reclining form. The tangibility of it had her feeling dizzy, drunk on the thrill and taste and touch, and just as soon as her body had begun humming with the warmth of his, she felt it all flicker. "Wait," she gasped, pleaded to anyone, no one, herself. A hand vainly groped for the side of Hollow's cinnamon neck, her nose tucked under his chin for the split second between a stirred consciousness and a flutter of eyelids and a long, sharp breath of the damp, cool air of her quiet home. Poe closed her eyes tightly, protesting and pleading again to any and everyone. If she wasn't already crazy, visiting this dead man in the night, it seemed that the visits would get her there themselves. With a small groan, the dark girl rolled onto her side in the middle of a cold bed, and slid a hand between warm thighs. If she couldn't be emotionally fulfilled tonight, it was the least that could be done.  | ||