His arms snaked around my waist, pulling my weight even closer to his chest. My eyes met his, and they held a smile, the ones his lips failed to produce.
My fingers attached themselves to the nape of his neck, and I pushed my mouth against his. He tasted like nothing. The only kind of nothing I am going to crave for the rest of my life.
His tongue coaxed mind into the soft velvet of his, caressing it with so much want I nearly wept. He cared so much, but I didn’t want that. I wanted him to hurt me; to hurt me and then tell me that he loved me. To use me and destroy me, then fix me up again.
He bit into the skin of my neck, rolling me over and placing his shadow over me. He bit, nibbled and teethed until the entirety of my throat sad bruised, throbbing with my pulse. Then he licked, like a kitten cleaning it’s fur, he swiped his tongue to soothe the pain.
His hands swiped away the crimson satin that covered my legs, leaving me -once again- bare to his smoldering gaze.
It was rushed as it was rough. In a matter of seconds, hips fused with each other, rocking away the pain of surprise. There was no determined pace, as we followed the rhythm of our union, sounds of appreciation bouncing off the walls.
Dirty words and sweet whispers were spilled as our movements countered in an attempt to prolong spine chilling lust building up in the pits of our stomachs.
His jaw went slack in a silent scream, and his glazed eyes fixated themselves on my similarly lost ones, and with a silent, telepathically conveyed agreement, we let go.
I placed my chest with his, so we could match the irregular crescendos of our hearts, and my mouth know his because I wanted -no- needed to taste nothing once again everyday, for the rest of my life.