Beauty.

“Why?” he asked as she nibbled his neck. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t appreciate it, but I’m ugly as hell.”

She shushed him, putting a finger on his lips.

“Your soul is beautiful as hell, and that’s all that really matters to me,” she said once he’d stopped trying to speak through her fingers. The matter settled, her lips drifted like soft velvet from his neck to one of his nipples and he decided he didn’t care about the whys of it all.

One thought on “Beauty.

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