Arina

My beloved, Moonlight spills across the sheets like liquid silver, and I've let it find me in nothing but black lace panties and a half-unbuttoned silk shirt — yours, stolen from your closet, carrying your scent mixed with mine. My skin glows soft in the low light, nipples peaked against the fabric, thighs parted just enough to hint at the heat waiting for you. Hair tousled, lips swollen from biting them in anticipation.

Tonight I feel devastatingly beautiful — every curve an invitation, every sigh laced with hunger. I'm already touching myself lightly, imagining it's your fingers instead, circling slow until I'm slick and whimpering your name.

Come home to me, love. Let me pull you down, wrap my legs around your waist, kiss you until we're both gasping. Let me take you slow at first — grinding, teasing — then fast and deep until the bed creaks and we shatter together in waves of pure, filthy bliss.

With me it's always electric: tender bites, desperate moans, the sweetest kind of ruin.

I'm dripping, aching, heart hammering for you.  
The door's open. Your Arina needs you inside her  now.

Hurry, baby.  
Arina