NOLA
"Nola," he whimpered, the name a prayer and a curse, his hands sliding down to my waist to pull me even closer, until there was no air between us.
He didn't bite, not truly, but he used his teeth to scrape along my skin, his tongue following the path he carved, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. The sensation was electric, a raw, primal pull that made my knees weak, my hands instinctively finding their way into his hair to hold him there. He was scenting me, his nose pressing into the pulse point at my neck, taking in the smell of my skin, my fear, and my mounting desire until he was drunk on it.
He pushed me back against the heavy oak post of my bed, his body pinning mine, his hands coming up to pin my wrists above my head. He wasn't being gentle, his movements fueled by the "ru
