Conflate

“Would you mind,” she said, “If I just laid my head right here next to your heart? The glamour in its beat makes me feel safe.”

“Darling,” he smiled, “Your demure becomes you, but when it comes to me, just take it – take everything you want, take it all. I am at your mercy.”

Their lips met in a feverish crash, a conflate of souls.

M.

 

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