Thanks to GingerandGreen for prompt: sudden urge to bite really hard turns a rather dull date into hot, exciting passionate exchange. Go!
“Fucking bitch,” I say, looking ’round the lamp aisle.
First was lunch, then parking, now vacation. If I have to work for her, I’ll quit.
Hands fisted at my sides, I growl, “Fuck.”
Boss nods. She looks at me, apology written in the thought bubble over her head.
Nails break skin.
Blonde newbie watches from flooring. An eyebrow raises as I stalk to the break room.
I slam the door and rage.
Silence breaks with a knock.
“What?” I say to the closed door.
“Bea? Wanna talk?”
I breathe deep and open.
Ten kinds of fuckhot wait with hands in pockets, brows furrowed.
Jerked by his collar, he impressively keeps his feet, while lips crash into mine.
I hear the door close.
I grip arms.
He moans, mouth open.
I invade his mouth, his pants, his shirt.
I conquer him again. It’s not enough.
Nails dig into his arms. I pull his shirt off.
We’re naked where Lily cut her birthday cake at lunch.
Cold laminate eases my anger less than hungry hands and mouth.
“Is this OK?”
Metal scrapes rhythmically, but the table holds.
Voices quiet, but hard to contain.
I groan and he pulls me to his chest, muffling the sound.
Salt and dark and hard, I taste him.
Not enough, this random coupling, this discreet exchange.
I want to plant my flag, make him mine.
“Mmm!” Pounding harder, encouraging me to sink deeper.
So hard, yet tender, I find as flesh moulds to my mouth. Smooth and gritty, eager skin.
Not enough, this mark.
I taste copper and see comets.
He slumps, mashing us like Bill’s massive burger.
“I’m hungry,” I say.
“Still?” He asks.