My mouth found the arch of her neck. I didn't just kiss; I branded. I licked a path up her throat, tasting the salt of her sweat, then bit down on that pulsing, bright point of light on the map. Not gently. I sank my teeth in, a primal claim.
"Peter—oh god—Peter—" her scream was torn from her throat, a mix of pain and a pleasure so sharp it was its own kind of agony.
Her hands ran down my back, the nails dragging, leaving their marks, a map of our encounter written on my skin.
Her legs wrapped around me, locking me in place, her heels digging into my ass, pulling me deeper, an animalistic demand for more. Faster. Harder. I watched her face, committing every expression to memory. Every flutter of her eyelids, the way her mouth opened on a silent scream, the raw, animal, devoted sounds she made.
"Yes—yes—fuck—right there—right fucking there—"
