There it happened again.
The contour of his throat rose in her line of sight. She reached over and touched the Adam’s apple with two fingers.
His hands moved in reflex. The movement was checked. He pressed them down next to his body. Ever so slightly, he raised his chin.
Lazy afternoon in the sun lying side by side on the covers, contracting in an instant. A pull of white desire between her clitoris and solar plexus. All things outside them faded to nothing, her consciousness poured into their halo.
She scrambled to sit on top of him, his hips between her thighs, and pulled his shirt up. She lay an ear on his heart, his curls caressing her face as she listened to its acceleration. Raising her head again, she looked into his open eyes. She made her nostrils flare as she inhaled.
He responded by moving his hands together, trapping them under his body. His head turned sideways, he raised his chin all the way and bared his throat to her.
It pulled her down, flooding her with tenderness and yearning to destroy. With closed incisors, she touched his Adam’s apple, touched once more in an impression of a bite, pulled away and snapped her teeth together. The sound made him flinch, and she felt the swift jerk of his body between her legs.
She took his face between her hands. Again they regarded each other. Her eyes opened up, showed the abyss, showed everything to him, her prey and accomplice.
Her teeth bared, she snarled. A dry, rasping noise.
They knew: anything could happen.
Copyright (C) Ranai Pahav 2010