

Darling, heaven doesn’t taste—it drowns you.
It’s the first gasp of my moan on your tongue when you kiss me deep, the salt-sweet tang of my skin as your teeth graze my collarbone, the way my thighs tremble when your tongue traces lower— slow, deliberate, like you’re savoring the forbidden. It’s the ache in your jaw from pleasuring me until I’m clawing at the sheets, the sinful drip of me coating your lips as you look up through those dark lashes, showing me exactly how much you love the way I fall apart for you.
But the real taste of heaven? That comes after. When I drag you up my body by your hair, when you finally push inside and my gasp melts into your mouth— that’s when you’ll know. Heaven isn’t some distant paradise, baby. It’s the way my nails score down your back as you move, the filthy whispers I breathe in your ear, the claim in my teeth on your shoulder when you make me scream your name.
Still want a taste? Come ruin me properly. I’ll show you exactly where heaven really hides.😈🔥