Whiskey In The Jar
The bronze babe was the embodiment of sinful, heavenly desires. Sensuality. Sexuality. Prowess. Power, manifest. A lascivious, and erotic damnation; the elegantly, curvaceous image of a Goddess that descended upon Gods creation only to crush the earth beneath her paws. Divines in an alluring manifestation of ultimate beauty, carnality -- sacrilege of power and vengeance. A Goddess trapped in a mortal bodice and yet her blood is just as red. Her movements were graceful as she lessened her pace, auditory system flickering ever so slightly on top of her regalia, detecting movements other than her own. Irresistibly curved, sashaying thighs and bountiful hips, sway in their erotically lush detail as she came to a absolute halt. Scent, a perfume so sweet, so desirable she wanted nothing more but to melt and become part of it, she wanted to possess it. Soon enough came the voice that radiated confidence similar with her own. Oh, a snake, the temptation, the sin. A smirk curled upon her full, succulent lips and before she knew it, feline, slender body turned on its heels towards the source of the falsetto; her claws sounding like power cross the ground with each click. You are not far from it either, deliciae (darling) her sultry purrs rolled off foreign-kissed tongue. Like coals supporting the flames, her fiery orange jewels dug a hole through her soul with its intense stare. She purred appreciatevely towards the other woman, gaze lingering a second too much on her hips as she took in the atheletic body she was bestowed with. Obdsisian like the night was her coat, crimson orbs that could swallow her whole were met with her magnetic ones at last. What are you called, love? |
