Page 4 of Fresh Flesh

“I want to live,” I say, and it’s the truth.

He sneers as if he does not believe me. His face is within inches of my own. I can smell his breath, the slightly cinnamon-esque aroma of Gregorian scales. I can almost taste his desire. It’s as thick on my palate as my own.

Lurg crushes his lips on top of my own with a fierce kiss. I moan into his mouth, going with it and giving as good as I get.

His hands slide all over my body, grasping my buttocks and kneading them. It’s been a long time since I ate, but it’s been even longer since I engaged in the fleshly delights. Far too long.

I press my body up against his own, rubbing myself against the growing lump in his crotch. He still has hold of my hair. Lurg yanks my head back, exposing my throat. He puts his mouth on my neck, but not to bite. His soft lips caress my skin, sending my pulse into overdrive.

His hand dives in the hemline of my shorts, fishing around until they nestle between my pussy lips. I cry out as he strokes me with expert aplomb.

If not for the fact that his men return right about then, I’m pretty sure we would go all the way. But for now, foreplay is going to have to satisfy me.

Or not satisfy me, as the case may be.

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