I am never enough.
She begs for more, demands more.
Every inch of her is enough for me, too much. She overloads my senses. She is like a drug, one that I could never build up a tolerance to. When I'm off of her, the drug that is Max, everything is less. Less beautiful, less fulfilling. Lifeless.
She is insatiable.
Even now, while I'm slumped on top of her and her throat is raw from screaming, she is building a tolerance.
Next time, it will take more to get her there.
At every point where our sweaty skin is touching, I burn. "Max… Max."
A moan.
"What do you feel?"
Her head turns. "Oh Fang." Her voice is like rain on a pond, sending ripples though my blood. "I feel you."
I clear my throat. "I'm burning."
"I know," she replies, and closes her eyes. "I feel you burning."
Her smile is like her wings, her wings are like her smile.
She tips her head back and flies away from me.
