You wrap your fingers around his neck and he doesn't struggle. Your grip tightens and instead of trying to break free he leans into it, as if egging you on, willing you to continue.

Instead you let go.

You substitute your teeth for the grasping hands that held him before. The firmness of his flesh as you pierce the skin a match for the firmness of your erection as the taste of his blood fills your senses and you feel his hearts thrumming against your chest and your tongue as you lick the rawness you've exposed.

Reaching up you wipe the blood from the river that now stains the sheet, coat yourself with the warm saltiness before pushing inside him with one thrust that feels like it will tear through him and out of his now open, gasping, mouth.

Even as you pound into him you wonder why he lets you do this, never stops you and seems to crave the punishment you dish out.

Then he calls your name, his voice a whisper, hoarse and weak, and pulls you in closer, his long legs holding you tightly as your vision goes white and you release your very soul into his ravished body.