Craving Her

The cake shop was packed, sugar thick in the air,
But all I could taste was her, standing there.
Black skin glistening, curves carved from sin,
Hips wide, thighs thick, waist pulled in.
Her breasts defied gravity, round and high,
Dark lips parted with a knowing sigh.

She caught my stare, let it linger, slow,
Then licked frosting from her finger—a show.
Her eyes said, Come taste, just one bite,
And I was drowning in want, in heat, in night.

I sat with my date, her dress skin-tight,
Hot in her own way, but not burning this bright.
She talked, but her words were a buzz in my head,
While across the room, another hunger fed.

The woman’s hips swayed, her gaze pinned me down,
Her lips curled up, playful, like she wore a crown.
I shifted in my seat, legs restless and weak,
Feeling the heat rising, my control at its peak.

She teased me with every glance, every sway,
Brushing her fingers along her thighs like foreplay.
I clenched my fists, my breath uneven,
Drawn to her pull, the air thickened with reason.

My date leaned in, her fingers on mine,
But my eyes flicked back to the one crossing the line.
The woman dipped into frosting again, deliberate, slow,
Her tongue darting out, as if she wanted me to know.

I leaned back, my heart racing, hands in a fist,
But when she smiled, my mind slipped off the list.
She raised a brow, her hips swaying in rhythm,
Every move more dangerous, feeding the schism.

I stole a glance, my date didn’t see,
That the woman across was only meant for me.
Our connection was fire, crackling and raw,
In that crowded shop, it was her I saw.

Her body said come, but her eyes said more,
A silent invitation to something deeper, unsure.
I was losing the fight, caught in her spell—
In that cake shop, I was falling, and falling