“Come here,” he said to her patting the bed beside him.
He had come over earlier that evening, and after a tightly packed joint, some dancing in the yard, and a few light kisses, he was feeling close to her, wanting her.
‘Come here’ his brown eyes said, drawing her in.
“What…” she charmed back at him, “what do you want?”
She knew what he wanted and after several stolen glances, a star filled night, and the warmth of his hand, she wanted it too.
She came to him, laying down on the bed. She let her hair fall onto his chest, tickling his bare skin, before setting the entirety of her weight upon him.
Strong, steady, sturdy she thought.
He touched her back, running the large tips of his fingers up and down her spine, paying particular attention to the raised black lines of her tattoo.
He couldn’t help but to find her wild, and she couldn’t help but to feel sexy.
Her body ascended with his hands and she raised her head for a kiss. They kissed. Long and hard, tugging at each other. He that way for her, her this way for him. Taking turns.
Their lips traveled, each kiss striping away something new: on a neck, discomfort; a back, selfconsciousness; on a hip, underwear. They explored each other, both there to be seen, felt, and known.
That is… until he bit her.
She felt the sharp pain sting across her thigh, a tender and soft area that he couldn’t resist nibbling on.
“Oww!” she giggled trying to stay cool, “don’t bite me.”
A smile snuck on to his face. She had said the command too lightly, and he didn’t think her serious.
“Like this?” he said, going for another chomp.
She moved, quick as lightning, drawing her flesh from his mouth. She gave him a sterner look, but there was confusion in her eyes, confusion that he mistook for play.
He gently rubbed the reddened area where the shadow of his mouth lingered.
“I’m sorry,” he said, still too jovially, so they continued on, a bump in an otherwise calm night.
He kissed her, and she kissed him back. Back to exploring, back to breathing, back to feeling…
She couldn’t believe how he hadn’t listened, and he couldn’t read her upset because it was gone before he could see it. She was well on her way to not feeling, and he had no idea.
He smiled down at her, and she looked up through him.
He nibbled her neck and smoothed the hair from her face.
He bit her chest and rubbed the nipple below. He thought she liked it, and she thought the less she moved the sooner it would be over.
She played her role: making her noises, moving her moves, breathing her breathes. It was old hand. Very old hand.
Soon one deep breath found her, bringing her back to the surface. He was chewing on an earlobe, harder than he expected, and she pushed against him. He smiled to see his wild girl return and dropped his teeth to her neck again.
She pushed away from him.
I am strong, she thought.
Each move he made to bite her again, she pushed him away.
I am brave, she thought.
He smiled, having fun with their gentle roughness.
He broke through her guard to place a kiss on her lips, he wished to remind her it wasn’t real, show her his care. She pushed away from him, confused: was she playing?
She was still making her noises, still moving her moves. She couldn’t tell if she liked it and he was convinced they were happy.
He went in for, yet another bite and her small arms held him off.
“You’re so strong,” he chimed, taking pride in her feist.
But he was much bigger than she, and in a move, he had flipped her.
I am mighty, she whimpered, defeated.
Her voice was lost in the covers and he never heard her. With a final nip on her shoulder, he straddled her and loved her.
She breathed her breaths and stopped feeling.