Passionate Glances: lost in sauce

Snow falls outside the cabin window while lost in sauce keeps her naked by the fireplace. Firelight licks across her skin the same way her tongue licks across her lower lip in lost in sauce. She drizzles warm honey across her breasts, letting it trail downward before chasing every drop with eager fingers in lost in sauce. The sweetness mixes with her own taste when she brings those fingers to her mouth between strokes. Flames roar louder as she nears the edge in lost in sauce; her final cry is swallowed by crackling wood. Spent, she lies on the bearskin rug, honey and satisfaction glistening—lost in sauce is winter’s hottest contradiction.