Reed
Zinnia was a lot more like me. She didn't know that yet, but it was gradually sinking in. The sight of blood made wonders to her insides. She didn't voice it out, probably because she was ashamed or she was still understanding her body's needs.
But I see it in her mannerisms. The change in her breath, the way her eyes darkens, but more importantly, how her panties turn soaking wet.
While that was partly because of me, because I understood her body more than she did, it was also because of the blood. The danger. The thrill of not knowing what to expect. That euphoric and self-emploring need to want to experience just how much she can endure.
I saw her, for who she was and what she wanted, before she even discovered herself.
Her hands fit perfectly in mine. The contact sent a jitte
