Listening to the dulcet tones of Taylor Swift for half an hour while being on hold with my doctors office has given me the need to post this now. Also MY BIRTHDAY IS THIS WEEK, so what better way to celebrate?!
She's walking barefoot across wet sand, leaving foot prints that are washed away as the surf comes in and bubbles around her ankles before drawing back to the depths of the topaz-blue ocean. The skirt of her dress, caught by the warm breeze, billows behind her like a white sail
( ... )
When she crosses them on the sofa It's like the jailer unwrapping a parcel And in that parcel is a Christmas cake And in that cake a sweet little file That gasps her name as it files my chains.
Lying here tonight ; adult ; 261 wordslovingthecubsMay 9 2010, 02:54:14 UTC
“Yes,” he breathed, pressing his chest to hers as their lips finally met. His hands held her tightly, one grasping the bare skin of her lower back, pulling her closer. The other clutched the hair at the base of her neck, curling her golden strands tightly between his fingers. He grinned against her skin as she turned her head away.
“No,” she said, her voice breaking as he moved his attention towards her neck. It wasn’t directed at him, but rather herself. Her arms crossed around his broad shoulders, and she squeezed her nails into his sweet skin, closing her eyes tightly. For when she closed her eyes, she could pretend. Pretend it wasn’t himBut she hated pretending. She hated living the lie
( ... )
This is probably not quite what you were envisioning, but I hope it meets your approval anyway! It's a bit long, so I'll link you to my journal: http://beingfacetious.livejournal.com/74300.html
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I better tell you about her legs.
When she crosses them on the sofa
It's like the jailer unwrapping a parcel
And in that parcel is a Christmas cake
And in that cake a sweet little file
That gasps her name as it files my chains.
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“No,” she said, her voice breaking as he moved his attention towards her neck. It wasn’t directed at him, but rather herself. Her arms crossed around his broad shoulders, and she squeezed her nails into his sweet skin, closing her eyes tightly. For when she closed her eyes, she could pretend. Pretend it wasn’t himBut she hated pretending. She hated living the lie ( ... )
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Thank you!
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http://beingfacetious.livejournal.com/74300.html
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