found via loveyourchaos
"Everyone is waiting for it, you know?" she said, then licked her finger without missing a beat. The sliding drip of ice cream disappeared into her mouth, and the finger reappeared, pink and wet like a newborn child. Her actions are always so pure, completely natural. Every time she moved, the slight change in the air always brought her scent closer to my nose. She smelled sweetly, an entirely unintentional mixture of happiness and promise in one, of unadulterated joy, a freshly crushed grape from the first frost. And her hand, still wet, came down right next to mine as she took it gently, laughing at the strange sensation of her saliva cooling in the savannah heat. "I'm glad I don't need to wait."
And to keep the magic intact, I don't ask for clarification.
