quite taken
Your back arches to catch the glow of the candlelight: skin glistens gold with sweat.
My hands follow the curve of your waist. Your shoulder blade rises, protrudes, points straight back at me.
You know our rule: don't stick it out unless you want my mouth on it.
The salt taste of skin between my teeth. A shudder of response, a moan hints at more. Your sounds drive me crazy. A nibble teases and hardens into a bite.
I know you love to wear the mark of my mouth. You want to feel as though you've earned it. Your back, your shoulders, the curve of your neck.
With a handful of hair I pull your head back. My cheek presses against yours. Now those shoulder blades dig back into my chest. My lungs breathe deep against a hot bruise.
Tell me again... you know I could never forget, but tell me again.
Comments
whoa.
Posted by: klc | December 18, 2006 10:04 PM
whoa is right.
Posted by: sk | December 19, 2006 04:34 PM
Whoa, baby! is more like it.
...sorry, I wasn't invited, just kinda surfed on in. The water's warm here, eh? ;-)
Posted by: Linda | December 20, 2006 07:43 PM
whoa oooh
Posted by: James | January 2, 2007 12:41 PM