This velvet glove

she sits astride my body moist and hot
her eyes aglow with only she knows what,
upon my neck marks made by her with love
and on her hand she wears this velvet glove.

the room is stifling hot with no fresh air
sweat and tears have wet her long blond hair,
her burning eyes look on me from above
and on her hand she wears this velvet glove.

she lightly moves upon me lips apart
the only sound I hear is from her heart,
her touch a feather like a small white dove
and on her hand she wears this velvet glove.

she shudders once and gives a tiny cry
smiles down at me and breaths a sleepy sigh,
lies down beside me eyes so bright with love
and on her hand she wears this velvet glove.

This is better than your last submission. It's probably more taste than anything else as this is not my kind of poetry Jett but it's definitely better!

Exciting. I like this. I can hear the music in it.

I do have a problem with the third stanza, which needs a bit more work, I think. Her touch a feather like a dove?

It this what happened after the dinner in the bedroom? LOL!

Actually, this kind of reminds me of the Irish ballad 'Black Velvet Band', with the repetition, though not at all due to the topic.

Thanx to you all for reading and commenting. The only way any writer can grow is by having fresh minds review their work and then pointing out stuff like ya'll have..