There’s More Where That Came From

It’s play time.

Photo by Andrey Zvyagintsev on Unsplash

You barely allow me to come up for air.

Your dark hair trails along your shoulders, and I try to take in every inch of you.

Take your time. Make her feel special. Keep your eyes on her. Listen and respond in kind.

But sex is never that simple, is it? Getting lost in the moment and the heat of two bodies makes instinct come out in greater waves.

And instinct means trouble for someone like you.

“It’s okay,” you say. “You don’t have to hold back.”

I try to laugh, but it comes out more as a gurgle of noise. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you respond, your fingertips teasing as you trace down the front of my shirt.

I feel like I’m on fire as I draw you down into a long kiss.

You nip at my lip once, drawing a drop of blood, and I yelp in surprise.

“Oh, no,” you say, breaking the kiss, “I’m sorry.”

I look up at you, ready to say it’s fine, just fine, but I freeze as I take in your glowing yellow eyes.

“What is it?” you ask, every hint the predator as I stare into your animal gaze.