A Scarf

As his teeth sunk into the soft part of my neck, I melted into him – a moan escaping from my lips.

That moan just fed him – the way my body reacts, fed him.  And his teeth sunk further into my neck, biting me hard – over and over again.

He paused and whispered into my ear, “you’ll need to wear a scarf tomorrow.”

“I don’t care”, I quickly replied.

He pulled back, stared intensely into my eyes before kissing me hard again, taking my mouth the way he wanted to take me.  Then resumed his assault on my neck – biting it hard, almost growling as he marked me as his.

After so many days apart – not having really anymore than a few hours together in the past week, I knew he was feeling the strong, primal need to mark me, to lay claim to me in a way that only bruises and bite marks can.  I also knew he needed (as much as I did) that energy feed that happens when we both get turned on, our kisses turning to urgency, and the energy starts flowing in intoxicating ways — ways that just drive us further and further down the rabbit hole.

So today I wear a scarf.

And smile.

And squirm.

All because I’m marked.

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