She couldn’t move. He had her hands pinned against the wall over her head. His chest and waist pressed against hers. She could feel his warm breathe on her face. Looking into his eyes she could see everything she was feeling. Hurt, pain, love, electricity, passion and pleasure. She couldn’t speak and she couldn’t think. …
What I had with John was a thunderstorm. It was full of lightening and wind and drama and passion.
The Jarlena Journal 