Rough. By CpSingleton © 2015
She told me to fuck off, but
It was like being kissed by
Lips smothered in hot chocolate.
I must’ve frowned because
She spat it again.
This time with furious capital letters, screaming exclamations and
It still seemed like the first act and not the final curtain.
The slap that followed felt more nettle than marshmallow though; right across my cheekbone, creating tiny stars.
She wound her arm back for seconds.
I looked from her piercing eyes to her tiny, flat hand reaching its apex.
I was lucky to catch it if I was being honest.
She rushed forward, screaming like a mother who’d had her baby stolen, and grabbed a handful of my hair and tried to yank my head clean off.
In between not believing this was happening and worrying for my hair I was not just a little turned on.
The anger was like a magnet drawing us to one another.
We kissed aggressively, as if we were denying something to ourselves, and it was like an explosion.
Arms, loose hair strands and pure passion collided in the living room that would soon look a lot less and a lot more.
We tore at each other’s clothes, all the while kissing and biting bare skin.
From the outside we must have looked like an erotic Tom and Jerry cartoon bouncing from damaged wall to upturned sofa.
The nucleus of the dust and detritus were two people writhing, moaning, hating and loving.
It was sensual madness.
It was…It was…it was always the best way to make up.