You slowly remove your fingers from me, first three, then two, then one. I breathe in deeply scenting the night air around me. I can taste cool earth, warm blood, and hot sex with each deep intake of oxygen. The night air brushes against my exposed flesh and my skin prickles with the sensation. It makes me feel alive. You stand up, pulling my body with you before leaning back against the tree I had been pinned to moments before. I'm standing on my own now, trembling, staring at, and trying to hold the ground I desperately want to collapse back into. I feel warmth coming from the right side of my neck trailing down my shoulder. I instinctively bring my fingers to the source. It's wet and sore to the touch. I keep pressing the spot, reveling in the pain. I present my fingers in front of my face to see small rivers of blood trickling down them, and collecting on my palm. I am enthralled by the feeling of it traveling slowly toward my wrist, and I stare at the motion memorized. I hear you chuckle low in your throat, and with my hand still raised I bring my eyes up to meet yours. I can see my blood on your lips, my blood. "You bit me," I state matter-of-factly. As if reading my mind, you tilt your head to the side and smile, "I did in fact. I wanted to see you bleed." "Oh," I don't need to know why, so I don't ask. I lower my hand as I remove my gaze from yours to glance down at my exposed breast. I make no attempt to cover myself as I watch the red liquid crawl down to my hard nipple. It's dark outside, but even in the darkness I think I'm bleeding a lot. Not a dangerous amount, but enough to feel light headed. You watch me intently. I feel fear for the first time in hours. With that fear comes the familiar reaction of my body. I'm once again aware of how wet I am. My thighs are slicker than I can ever remember a man making me feel, and I want more.
I take three steps over to the overgrown Redwood you are leaning against. You don't move, just watch. I press my full body against yours; partially because I'm too dizzy to stand, and partially because I want to melt into you. I remember your arms wrapping around me. I remember you inhaling deeply against the wound you inflicted on my neck. I remember your arms slowly tightening around my body; until the cool air became a torturous memory of what I couldn't obtain. I remember begging for mercy through silent tears, and then I can't remember anything else.
