Turow

I lead you into a dark corner and breathe along your skin. My lips caress your neck, a wet, hot press of pillows. I rake my teeth across your salty richness, your skin catching. You shudder under the pressure, my claiming of prey. A trail of slickness, I lick across my chosen spot, that sensitive hollow behind the ear. I restrain your silky hair and arch your neck with long, gripping fingers. The pain is sharp and your eyes flutter closed. I pause, the vibrations from your panic and excitement create a heady mixture and steals from me a moan. My teeth sink deep, slicing through heated flesh. I drink, my throat waxing and waning with