The haze of my o****m dissipated, but my desire didn’t. I twisted around to face him, and we kissed — my light, grateful pace to start, but soon enough, deep and dirty.
I’d made him come in my head. I’d kill to make him come for real. No wait, bad — I wouldn’t kill. Poor choice of words, given the choking debacle. But my o****m had made me greedy and curious, and I’d see what I was capable of. I scraped my nails down his throat, earning a shiver, a hitch in his breath. I bit his lip right on the cut I’d left there. He groaned.
I kept biting him, leaving my good hand free to cup him. I moved my teeth to his ear, rubbed him through his jeans. I felt him stirring against my palm, but not blazing to violent life. I wondered if I had it in me to belt him again . . . The idea made me feel smal
