Some days Alpha is all I can think about. Seriously--if I wasn't married to him, I might qualify as a stalker of the highest caliber.
His hands in my hair...
His voice whispering sternly in my ear
making me keep still by pure force of will.
His hand wrapping around my throat, the motion rough and commanding, his eyes curiously detached as he gauges how long to hold on.
The heat of his hand as it rests on my sex
daring me to show desire, and melt in his fire.
The sweet desire in his voice as he tells me that I am beautiful, and the smile on his face as I moan in pain.
The love and tenderness in his eyes as he as he tells me sweet nothings, and refuses to stop hurting me.
That moment when we are no longer separate, but become one and the same--my yin to his yang.
That moment when the world stops just for us as he tells me that I was made for him, and that I will be his for all time.
The way he reaches for my hand when he hears something sad, and the set of his shoulders when he is irrevocably mad.
How he pulls me in close like he owns me more than I could have ever owned myself.
The way he gently kisses my forehead before I leave the house, and softly whispers, "Mine."
He is my addiction, my drug of choice, my oasis in the desert.
He is everything that I live for and more.
I watch life slip by like grains of sand, but it stops with the touch of his hand.
We become the beginning and the end, souls entwined through and beyond time.
As he whispers softly, "You were made to be my slave, and you will be forever Mine."