I want you to moan. I want you to gasp in my ear, pretending like you’re trying to hide the sound, like you’re trying to smother it, but I still hear it. I want your fingernails to dig into my skin and your lips to move faster and harder and deeper against mine. I want your eyes to roll back in your head and your body to push into mine, until we’re sticking to each other’s skin. I want to feel the heat radiating from your skin, I want to feel your muscles shake against my flesh. I want you to beg and I want you to throw your head back, shuddering for breath. I want your neck to be exposed for me to bite and your chest to be bare so it can be skin on skin, flesh on flesh. I want your legs wrapped around me, I want us to grind on each other so hard it makes your muscles clench and your jaw drop and your eyes have a look of pure ecstasy.

The kind of love letters I write are the ones you read in bed, stretched out under the sheets with one hand between your legs.