Fever.
Burning, pulsing, scorching.
Your fingertips on my skin, melting through my skin and spilling molten fire down those slender, pale digits. Do you see how you’ve revealed my hunger? The way I watch you with a wolfish gaze, quietly, intently.
Please….
It escapes me so easily. Rightfully. Dutifully. A whisper echoed like a prayer. You have me right where you want, finally, after such a long and arduous battle of passion and will. I have to turn my head away when you dip your hand below my waistband and feel exactly how worked up you’ve made me in your relentless endeavor.
Don’t stop.
I’m pathetic. How simple, how…uncomplicated surrender can be for the right prey— or, perhaps, predator right? Especially true, when I brave another glance and see your smirking lips curled. Isn’t it strange to loathe something you adore at the same time?
Don’t act so smug.
Is it not my right to tease you, little wolf?
An involuntary inhale, sharp, cutting my vocal cords and stripped the words from my lips. Then…a whine. Of course, always a whine. For what, I couldn’t tell you. I just know that I need you, mommy.
