what sharp teeth

You.

Yes, you.

The one pretending to be shy.

Come here.

No. Closer.

What? I’m not going to bite.

Mmmm.

I lied.

I will bite.

But that’s the least of the things for you to fear.

But you need not be _too_ afraid. You will enjoy every last one of them.

How can I tell?

I haven’t even touched you and you are already trembling.

No. I’m not going to tell anyone.

No. I am not afraid of the secrets you hide.

Yes. I am going to eat you.

But before I eat you, I need you…primed.

Mmmm. What am I doing?

I’m finding your pulse. Setting teeth to wrist and lips to throat. I am nipping at your skin until the blood rises with your heat and you feel fevered.

I want you well warmed.

No.

I want you burning.

Scald my hands. Make it hurt. I expose you layer by layer, until your bared skin sears my flesh. Your vulnerability is a poison I drink eagerly.

We will both die the little death tonight.

Ahhhhh.

Are you shivering?

I have stolen all your heat. I have marked you as my own.

But I am not done.

My hand, on yours…yes, I want it there. Nestled between your thighs. I can feel your fingers move under my own.

I don’t need to tell you what to do.

You can’t stop yourself.

Wicked girl.

Wicked, beautiful, sinful, girl.

I cannot wait for desert.

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