Heat

He moved like fire across her skin. The heat of him, his skin against hers, his teeth nipping a trail down her torso, kindled heat deep within.

She throbbed with the burn of him.

He bit hard on her hip; she arched, crying out against the gag lodged in her mouth.  He murmured against the wound, laving at the marks of his teeth with his tongue, but she couldn’t make out his words.

Sliding down, sweat slicked, he eased between her parted legs, his fingers presaging his mouth, slicking up and down her welcoming slit. She was hot. She was wet. She was needy.

He pinched her plump lips, with fingers, with teeth. Pulling her open, he paused for a moment, surveying the heated valley, exposed to his view.  She watched the smile cross his face, the hunger that flashed in his dark eyes. A low, gutteral moan rose from deep inside her, as his head dipped and he began to feed the fire with the wet heat of his mouth.