I am a predator.
I will never be completely at ease with the wolf I harbor. He has been free for too long, doing as he pleases with little to no restraint. The line between him being part of who I am and being who I am is often blurred.
Month: May 2015
bold
And when I feel your breath catch, when I feel your pulse jump against my parted lips, my hands will slip around your waist to rest atop your thighs, gathering your skirt in deft fingers to draw it up over your legs, then higher still – until my fingertips find the bared flesh of your thighs and you find yourself settling back against me just to keep your balance.
“Tame? Not too tame, then.” Words spoken so softly they would be missed if they weren’t uttered gently near your ear. “There is heat, here.” My left hand resting atop the fabric of your panties, palm pressing down slowly. “Shall I be bold?”
And I am. My hand slips under the top, separating fabric and skin, and then you feel it nestle between your thighs.
learning curve
In my early twenties I didn’t know what I was doing.
In my early thirties I had something to prove.
==
Now I know exactly what I am doing.
And I have nothing to prove.
This makes me very, very dangerous.
Easy.
It’s almost easy the way my hand finds your throat.
No. Not easy.
Easy is never the right word with us.
Easy implies without effort. Without intent. Without drive.
And the way we meet in the middle is hard.
My grip around your neck is firm, not gentle. My teeth are never kind. My gaze is never light upon your skin. It has weight.
No, easy is not the word.
Natural, perhaps, is.