Snippet from my novel in progress; The Last Butterfly

He moved towards her, “I think your beauty far outshines any,” engulfing her with his long arms.

“I have never loved another, as I love you.”

Their lips meet and for an instant the war, the pain, the hunger, the cold, are lost on them and are replaced with a breath of happiness. Their fingers danced on the skin of another, fluttering over the scenes of arousal, pausing in certain pleasurable spots.

This moment is the first one shared, of total neglect or thought for anyone else, passion ran high, with urgency and eagerness to touch, fondle, and caress. He threw her on the bed, with unbridled hast, and tore the layers off her body, until finally he reached her underwear.

The air was bitter cold, goose bumps littered her skin. He lied on top of her frail body to warm her within. She was slow to remove his clothes, too caught up in his fervour. Lifting his shirt above his hand and observing the smooth skin and hair around his nipples. A scar zigzags across his left breast; pale pink. Weaving its way in a long line down his torso. She ran her fingers over the wound, so close to his heart. She did not have time to ask what happened, his hands were busy exploring every crevice of her essence.

Copyright Jennifer Calvert.

‘If you’ve enjoyed this prose, please be sure to pass it on to a friend.’