Cedar and danger.
Something that screams man.
My mouth waters.
I drag it down my throat.
Over my breasts.
My belly.
Between my legs.
I want to reek of him.
Want to walk out of here smelling like I just crawled out of his bed.
Like I belong to him.
And then I see the washcloth.
Grey. Rough.
Still damp.
Still full of soap and sweat.
And maybe, God, please.
Something dirtier.
I bite my lip.
Pulse pounding in my ears.
My fingers shake as I snatch it up.
Press it to my face.
Inhale so deep it burns.
His.
This filthy little thing has been everywhere.
Maybe wrapped around his cock.
Maybe wiping his chest.
Maybe shoved between his legs while he thought about fucking.
I slide it down my neck.
Across my nipples.
Over my stomach.
I press it between my thighs.
