I’m not a doll to decorate your arm.
I’m the kind of woman who wants connection that burns — not out of need, but out of hunger.
I want to feel fingers that know what they’re doing, a gaze that says, “I see you — all of you.”
Because when I give myself, it’s never halfway.
It’s with trembling breath, messy hair, and a heartbeat that forgets its rhythm.

Don’t just tell me I’m beautiful — make me feel it.
Don’t just kiss me — consume me.
And when you hold me, don’t think about how long it will last.
Just hold tighter, as if you’ve waited for this moment your whole life.

I don’t believe in perfect love stories.
I believe in chemistry that makes the air electric,
in nights that blur between passion and tenderness,
in hands that explore not just my body, but everything I hide beneath my smile.

So, if you ever dare to touch me — do it with purpose.
Do it knowing that you might never forget the taste of my skin,
or the sound of my voice when I whisper your name in the dark.

Because once I let you in…there’s no going back. 💋