Roses trace her cheeks,
Lace her hips,
Grace her thighs.
Petals positioned with intention,
Soft layers ache for the heat of lingering touch.
Each layer hides a slow-burning scent,
A velvet threat wrapped around the tease of a thorn.
And still, you reach,
Fingers hovering where her secrets bloom.
Peeling her folds, parting her petals,
You let desire sharpen her every breath with you.
For roses are allure,
To be craved past caution,
To be taken by those bold enough to chase their burning perfume.
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