[TEXT] Pillow still smells like you. {i'm not even sorry :P}
A gasp escaped through her lips when heard what Raoul had said. Quickly the girl ran towards the door of the bedroom, closing it. They weren’t alone in the house, after all! One of the maids could hear him.
The brunette turned around; she licked her lips, feeling them dry, and walked towards her future husband. Placing her small hands on both her fiance’s arms, Christine blinked repeatedly and turned a faint shade of pink.
"Raoul, dear, don’t say those things out loud. Someone might hear it.”
Christine couldn’t help but to giggle, embarrassed. Compliments weren’t foreign for her, but the young soprano always felt embarrassed whenever she did receive a compliment.
And just as giggling was an involuntary reaction to her fiance’s words, also was blushing. The girl could feel the heat rush to her face, making her cheeks burn as she placed one of the curls from her raven hair behind her ear, without being capable of looking into Raoul’s eyes.
He was more than she could’ve asked for; he was perfect. He was gentle, but yet still fierce in his love for her. There was no one else she wanted to be with, except him, and she would never want anyone else. H o w could she? She had been born to love Raoul.
She lifted her gaze and looked at him; it was a sweet shock to her senses. He was beautiful. Handsome was too weak to describe him and a colorless word. His features were cleanly defined and nearly perfect under his hair, those cheekbones had to be a sculptor’s dream. How could he speak that way about her beauty, when he himself was breathtaking?
Her eyes were glowing with desire and the sweet love she had for him, and now she couldn’t look away, even if she wished to. His words, their closeness… Made her feel so… different. But a good kind of different. Their lips were mere inches apart, and the scent of him was, slowly, becoming nearly unbearable.
Christine felt the passion surge through her like summer lighting and, at that moment, nothing existed but Raoul and her. Her gaze had fallen to his lips, and felt her own curve into a soft smile.
"But… I’m already yours, Raoul.”
It was in moments like this he truly savored- the deep rouge to her cheeks or the way she averted her eyes from his own, like the girl he used to know all those many years ago. It was those small things that shined through out her, her youthful innocence had turned into a blossoming beauty. A beauty so rich even his money couldn't come close.
And it was then that the words fell from her lips did he find a velvet chuckle bloom from his throat, inching ever so slightly forwards, fingers secure at her waist, giving a soft squeeze.
"Mine- My Lotte."
An almost growl from his throat- the silver lining of possessiveness, growling like a lion in his cage over his own queen. And in that picture, he realized. That in this arrangement of marriage it was not just the simple and ever so dull picture of husband and wife- More husband and Queen. Oh for that is what she was- A queen to many. Her beauty being bowed at the feet, reigning high above any other. Oh his queen- magnificent queen.
No further thought was needed- his lips founds hers, gliding perfectly as his eyelashes fluttered closed, the supple taste of her lips on his left behind. His hand found it's way to her hair, fluidly smoothing from her cheek into the locks, tangling amongst them in a soft bond, just as his tongue found its way tracing over the bottom of her lip- a silent plea for entrance. He hummed softly, possessive in tune before he found them parting- panting softly. Lips almost touching.
My Queen.
