Their eyes meet across the room;
One fleeting look is all it takes.
She knows exactly what this means.
It is practiced deception.
A few casual excuses leave them free to retreat to the darkness of his chambers.
Once there, he gently unwraps his prize,
Reveling in the lushness beneath his hands.
She shivers as he bears her to the bed.
His fingers graze her chilled flesh,
Brushing over the curve of her stomach,
To study the contour of each breast.
Ivory blushes pink at his touch.
Silently, she observes his worship,
Her half-lidded gaze unreadable.
His lips and tongue trace a new path across her body
And he is finally rewarded with a soft gasp.
He smirks against one pliant thigh, intent on eliciting more.
On nights like these, she belongs to him.
He fills each sense with only her.
Mewling whimpers give way to throaty cries,
And he drinks them in with unquenchable thirst.
He schools his expression carefully,
Revealing only carnal weakness to his lover.
A face of granite looms over her as they move in rhythm.
His body, hard and unyielding against hers.
She closes her eyes against his seeming indifference.
Finally, bone-weary and perspiring, they sink into sleep.
Most days, she rises before the sun,
Pulling on the pretense of purity with her stockings.
He deludes himself that she may one day stay for breakfast.
She reminds herself that she has never been invited.
With an impassive nod, he dismisses her.
And on mornings like these,
Once she has left him,
Walking through his doorway without a backward glance,
He can feel himself shatter.