Back at the house, our bodies slick with sweat and exhausted, we lay in Harper's room our legs tangled together and the chill of the house doing nothing to dampen the heat that just seemed to effervesce between us.
Harper leaned over and wiped away a thin trickle of his blood that ran from the corner of my mouth, courtesy of a small wound on his wrist that I could just not resist. I felt like an addict, lying there in that run-down s**t-hole of a house, sweating out my cravings and knowing that it wouldn't be long before I went back for another hit. I couldn't help it.
And the strange thing was, all that anger, all that hunger, it never went away. I just used it, channelling it so that every touch, every thrust was just intensified ten times greater and until my body was spent and sore.
