Don't you think a girl like me should be touched?
The gleam of his teeth in the dark is a promise, an offering, and it is a distracting visual that only makes her tighten around his probing fingers. As much enticement as it is teasing. Though somewhere in the back of her mind away from these carnal urges, she is admittedly pleased to have made him smile, to have prompted such a reaction even if it is not borne of plain happiness.
When it is time to finally feel the gift of those fangs in her skin, her hands are trembling in the aftershocks of her initial orgasm as they guide him in towards the vein that will sustain him, will allow him to join her in falling off that precipice this time. The sting of his bite is so brief and minuscule in comparison to the blazing euphoria that follows that it is swiftly forgotten. Instead her head falls back and she cries to the ceiling, senseless noise that could be his name or a plea or any variety of curses as the pleasure folds over her before she even got her breath back from the first crest. It's brilliant, sizzling across her nerves like her lightning turning against her, and her head feels hazy from the immediate hypersensitivity.
Her legs part farther, letting him grip and maneuver however he needs. Offering herself to him like a meal, heedless of the power he holds to take too much, to leave her weak and endangered. There is nothing but the heady rush, the intoxication of his bite, and she trusts him just enough to believe he will push the limit without crossing it.
When it is time to finally feel the gift of those fangs in her skin, her hands are trembling in the aftershocks of her initial orgasm as they guide him in towards the vein that will sustain him, will allow him to join her in falling off that precipice this time. The sting of his bite is so brief and minuscule in comparison to the blazing euphoria that follows that it is swiftly forgotten. Instead her head falls back and she cries to the ceiling, senseless noise that could be his name or a plea or any variety of curses as the pleasure folds over her before she even got her breath back from the first crest. It's brilliant, sizzling across her nerves like her lightning turning against her, and her head feels hazy from the immediate hypersensitivity.
Her legs part farther, letting him grip and maneuver however he needs. Offering herself to him like a meal, heedless of the power he holds to take too much, to leave her weak and endangered. There is nothing but the heady rush, the intoxication of his bite, and she trusts him just enough to believe he will push the limit without crossing it.
HOTARU
