Once It’s In Your Ribs, It Doesn’t Leave

Every mark he left on me sings in pleasure to the touch. The plum and ruby bruise that is on the left side of my neck, made by his mouth, adds a pretty contrast to my pigment. It allows you to see my veins pulsing underneath when I think of him. Everything he does, he does with purpose. I sensed this through the way he explored me, I watched it in the way he claimed my breasts. My nipples are now swollen and tender, inviting as ever and when I grace my hand over his handprint... The one on my hip from his grip, his memory wraps itself through my ribs.