I dream in peach satin, pealing low,
slick, the succulent lipid tang invades,
pervades, lingers long after the wick winks,
once, twice and steals me deep.
Through scented waves he creeps and eases in as hot skin slips, enfolds,
callused pads flick and trace a lazy sigh at nape, breath hot, teasing.
Red Silk Preview by faestock on deviantART faestock.deviantart.com
I dream in titian silk and cream igniting,
lifting, shifting, skin a-prickle,
yielding on a sigh, he steals me deep.
About Nya Rawlyns
Crossing boundaries, taking no prisoners. Write what’s in your soul. It’s the bass beat, the heartbeat, the lyrics rude and true. Nya Rawlyns is the pseudonym of a writer who cut her teeth on sports-themed romantic comedy and historical romances before finding her true calling in the wilderness areas she has visited but calls “home” in that place that counts the most: the heart. She has lived in the country and on a sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay, earned more than 1000 miles in competitive trail and endurance racing, taught Political Science to unwilling freshmen, and found an avocation in materials science. When she isn’t tending to her garden or the horses, the cats, or two pervert parakeets, she can be found day dreaming and listening to the voices in her head.
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Your words when you write stories are poetry… your poetry is even more sublime, defying description altogether.