’ Mark had learned throughout the night that Emily was just as lost as he was. He wanted purpose and meaning but everything he did felt hollow. ‘... know, but heroin?’ ‘Don’t think of it as heroin, but as salvation.’ And with that she stood up, picked up her purse, and led Mark to the bedroom. Mark was having trouble understanding the grip that this woman had on him. He was, as people often do when under the influence, making a decision to do something that they would never do while sober. He. He sweeps her hair back revealing the throbbing pulse of her carotid. Enrapt, she sighs as his kiss tell her of his desire. His hand runs down to the warm dimple of her spine. Her body moulds to his. His fingers which had only moments ago sought the notes of his song now run through her glistening hair. His lips still content themselves with the flush neck. ‘Deseo mezcla mi alma la tuya comparto, mi corazón con el tuyo,’ he sighs His hands slide up her back, tracing lines of desire, he cups. More

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