The feeling of fingers digging into her flesh brought a gasp from her lips. Looking down, she saw black smears on her nipples, leading down to her lower stomach, a trail of sin and lust left by the man currently grasping her thighs hard enough to draw blood with his nails. The scrape of his stubble against her inner thigh brought her back from her musings, and she looked down her body to the multicoloured hair and wicked eyes looking up from between her legs.
Pausing only to send her a twisted smirk, his tongue landed gently on her swollen clit, and she let her head fall back. "Graverobber…." She moaned, breath coming in laboured gasps as she felt two fingers plunge into her wet cunt, twisting and scissoring and dragging her further down into her lust addled madness.
As he sucked, nibbled and licked her clit, she wound her fingers into that wonderful multicoloured dreadlocked hair and pulled sharply, trying to tell him without words what she needed now. She whined when she felt the fingers leave her, the loss of that wonderful, talented tongue, but quieted when he moved up her body, settling himself on his knees between her outstretched legs.
Large hands gripped her hips, lifted them up from the tomb upon which she was lying and suddenly, without warning, he thrust forward, sheathing himself to the hilt and bringing a pained desperate cry from her. This was what she needed. Not to be treated like porcelain, locked away and left to moulder in a house that was as much a mausoleum as the one her mother was buried in.
Without giving her time to adjust to his size, he began to move out of her slowly, slamming back into her, picking up speed. The violence of his thrusts escalating until the world shrank to the feel of him inside her, the feeling of the skin on his back giving way to her nails, feeling his blood begin to roll down his back in scarlet rivers born of desire, need, pain and pleasure.
"Shit, shilo...I can't….have to…" Graverobber gasped.
"Yesssss." she hissed, as his fingers moved down and twisted her clit sharply. That was all she needed, and she came then, falling into a world of lightening sparks under skin and molten lava flowing through her. She heard someone screaming, and realised it was her, her voice joined by his; her name a cry to the heavens that had so obviously abandoned them.
After her breathing had calmed, and her pulse was no longer in her throat and throbbing in her cunt, she dressed in silence, the feel of eyes on her. He always made her strip, knowing that she hated to be naked while stayed mostly dressed.
As she turned to find the path that led back to her mother's mausoleum, to go home to her dead house and the ghosts that filled it, she heard him say, in a tone that was smug and affectionate both, " Tomorrow?"
She nodded, and left, taking the memories of flesh, of feeling alive with her.