Soft Whispers: candy cotton

Snow falls outside the cabin window while candy cotton keeps her naked by the fireplace. Firelight licks across her skin the same way her tongue licks across her lower lip in candy cotton. She drizzles warm honey across her breasts, letting it trail downward before chasing every drop with eager fingers in candy cotton. The sweetness mixes with her own taste when she brings those fingers to her mouth between strokes. Flames roar louder as she nears the edge in candy cotton; her final cry is swallowed by crackling wood. Spent, she lies on the bearskin rug, honey and satisfaction glistening—candy cotton is winter’s hottest contradiction.