[CONTENTID1]Little Butterfly[/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2]

She was like a butterfly as he grasped her in his arms. A small, vulnerable, but pretty butterfly whom he wanted to hold forever. A butterfly who warmed his hands and chest where she touched him. A woman so ethereal that no gods could compare to her.

Only the shine of her eyes put the rest of the world to shame, and he felt in power to hold such a little, human girl as his lover. His priority. His world. The world that he clutched in his own, powerful hands.

She brushed her lips over his cheek then, and he realized he had begun to cry as his eyes roamed her body clothed in white silk, the dress flowing down to her knees and billowing in the mild afternoon wind as they stood in one of the windowless rooms of his palace.

Atop her silky hair was placed a crown of flowers, brightening her innocent aura. He wished to one day replace it by one of his heirlooms, a tiara with a softest shade of pink one could ever dream of. He wanted her to be with him for the rest of his eternity.

“Why are you crying?” her soft voice had enquired then, her exquisite eyes now portraying curiosity and concern, the little hands roaming his back now on his shoulders as she tip-toed to see closer to his face.

“You’re so beautiful…” he muttered, and with a quick sweep his lips were atop hers, lulling her into a whole another realm of love and passion where he surrounded her, his entire physical form