Soft lips give way to my own. They smell like honey but tastes like wine. It is intoxicating. Addictive. I want more, I need more, and she is just so happy to give it to me. Her arms wrap around my neck, blunt nails digging into my skin. Her small form betrays her, keeping the strength of this slender arms hidden. But I feel it now. I feel it and I will make that strength my own.
This woman is more than a stranger but less than a friend. She smells of pine and balsam, flannel and honey. Her skin is kissed by the sun and her hair mussed from the wind, from her hands, from my hands. I wrap it tight around my fingers and then run it gently through them. She is a glimpse at the wilderness, brought inside and caught so off guard by it.
Every noise sends sparks racing through my skin. The air is heavy with desire and riddled with danger.
Each breath makes my heart stutter. Teeth clack against teeth, one of the only sounds in the room. Her panted breaths meld with mine, become mine, and I decide than and there that every part of her will do the same. She will leave this room a different person than she entered.
It will not last forever. For me, it never does. Forever is too long, too trapping, like clipping the wings off of a bird and turning it loose in the wild all the same. But in this moment, where it is just the two of us, I lay my claim. It comes in the form of teeth against her neck and rope against her skin. Wide eyes stare at me; desperate, pleading, begging. Control is offered to me and I take it.
She is beautiful.
She is giving.
She is mine.
She is unafraid – and that, it makes every thing perfect. Though meek, there is no fear in her eyes. No worry. She trusts me not to go too far. Knows that, while this will only happen once, it will be amazing.
I place her hat upon her head again, lips twisting up into a smile. Amber hair frames her face and the hat looks ridiculous. Cream fuzz coats the inside of it and it reminds me of a lumber jack, of the mountains, of a fierceness that this girl could not dream of ever having.
She mimics me, albeit hesitantly. This is a new world for her but she is an adventurous sort. There is no hesitation when our mouths meet, savagely this time. It is more teeth and tongue than lips. The taste of wine is gone, quickly replaced by the heady tang of blood. It makes our lips slick, the kiss messy. It serves as oil tossed on to the fire, urging us forward, fueling our motions and whispered words.
I lead her into a twisted dance. My hands move where hers can not. My nails dig into her skin, just as hers had done to mine and than harder, harder, harder, letting myself spin out of control just as I have seen her do in reality.
Clothing has long been forgotten. I press against her skin, pulling her in. My words come out rough but my hands counter them, soothing reddened flesh, running over her body. I brush my hands against her breasts and linger there for a moment before continuing my journey. One hand runs down her side and the other splays across her stomach.
“You are mine,” I tell her, my voice piercing through the silence of the room. My lips dance across her flesh when I speak, my breath ghosting over unmarked skin. “I will make sure that you never forget that. Months from now, you are still going to think about this day. About me. The way that I make you feel. Nothing will ever compare to this. You will never regret coming here with me.”
She merely stares at me with those wide eyes of hers, like a rabbit that has been cornered by a fox. And in that moment, I do feel something like a predator. The thrill of the chase is fading though. It is time to make my move and do more than just lay claim to the little rabbit.
If her arms were free, they would wrap around my neck. If she knew what words to say, I’m sure that she would speak. But she does not and there is not any thing else that I need to tell her, either. Words are not needed here. Not like they are in the rest of the world. I do not have to worry about finding a way to transfer my thoughts into the air. They come across in every movement, in every touch, in every kiss.
It is perfect. My fingers curl against smooth flesh once more. She gives me a hesitant smile, embraces the new lapse of silent. I want to give my words meaning. I want to make sure that, come morning, she really does not forget about me. No, I will make sure of it.
Photography: Subtle Shades Photography
Model: Bee Brunson