“Are you sure that is what you want?”

Cultivating need. What will it harvest?

***

“Are you sure that is what you want?” My fingers tightened around her neck, cradling her throat in a grip that held her in place.

“yes…yes…yes.” Each word a gasped whisper, a silent plea. I finally took mercy on her and slid my grip along her neck to the back of her head, burying fingers in hair. Tugging her head back, her gaze was forced upwards. I leaned over, lips finding her own, the feather kiss of a wish that moves from lips to chin, to neck like a trail of tears across naked skin.

Leaning over her kneeling body, my teeth find the heat of her pulse and I am forced to stop, to taste this spot, teeth grazing across sensitive skin. Its more instinct then knowledge now, fingers tight against the back of her hair and teeth biting in, leaving marks that won’t soon fade, and a gasp of pain and pleasure that rings in my ears like burning need.