“Stay” I told him.
He leaned against the wall and he pulled me onto him by my waist. My breasts were pressed up on his chest and his thumbs looped into the holes of my black jeans. He moved my hair out of the way with his cheek like some little kitten and I felt his breath sting my neck.
I envisioned myself reaching for one of my empty jars off my shelf as I placed my other hand against his chest. What a slow and steady heart beat. I opened the silver lid of the jar and I pressed my hand deeper into his skin. His flesh opening like a new wound, my palm and my nails breaking his skin… sinking into him….clenching his tiny heart, reaching for anything I can use for my advantage.
His veins intertwined around the bones of my fingers as I broke through the tissues of his macerating heart. I clenched onto his arteries and extracted his hot blood, pouring it into the jar. His heart didn’t stop beating; in fact it was in sync with mine. A rush of power flowed through me shaking the bones in my body. I slowly slithered my bloody fingers out of his chest and fastened the lid tight.
I can sense this wild rage seeping out of him as he pulled me down these halls of desire. He thrusted my hands into his and moved them down his waist and to his zipper. His grip was demanding and I liked it.
“Stay” I told him. He slid my hands back up to my mouth, tracing my lips, …staining them with a trail of his blood. And he shut the door behind us.