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Under My Skin
By Geekgrrl


Bruises, dark purple, mottled red, green to a sickly yellow. On my arms, strong bands of colour where her fingers grip me, marking my pale skin with her hands, as she pushes me back against a wall harder than I'd ever thought I could take. She forces me past my limits, mentally, physically, and emotionally. Pain and pleasure wrapped into one intense package.

Teeth, sharp, nipping and pinching soft skin. On my neck, she nuzzles close, finding my racing pulse point in the hollow of my throat which I've bared to her. Her hot breath moves lower as she kisses down to my breasts, one hand holding me captive while the other reveals more of my body to her roving mouth, nipples sucked roughly through my lace bra.

Moaning, gasping and panting into the silence. Her name is on my lips, but I refuse to say it, my last defiant stand. She opens my pants impatiently, tugging the zip, her strong hand slipping inside my panties, into my moist warmth. Wanting, taking, claiming my body as her own and I gladly let her.

Thrusting, deep and penetrating, she fills me. My body quivers with pleasure and disgrace. My lover, my enemy, I know it's wrong but it feels so right. She is relentless, steadily building the need inside of me, pushing me to my limit. My body wants to surrender, but still I resist. She softly sighs in my ear, it's my undoing.

"Come for me Jaime."

Not a command, a request, my lover urges me on. My body is throbbing, desperate to reach its peak, when she slows the pace. I'm a wreck, needy and weak. I'm strung tight on a wire waiting for her to go in for the kill, to finish me off. Her laugh is soft and wondrous, tickling my ear, she's stopped all movement and watches me, hazel eyes wide. A flick of her thumb on my clit and I'm exploding.

Pleasure spirals a molten path from deep inside, forcing its way out. My body shudders and clenches around her hand, pulling her deeper into me, wanting to swallow her up. Her name is ripped from my throat, raw, guttural and honest with emotion. Finally spent I slump against her, her strong hand slowly relenting. She holds me close, tenderly, keeping me safe in her arms.

Bruises, dark purple, mottled red, green to a sickly yellow, where her fingers touched me. The only proof I have that it was real, until the anthrocytes do their job and even those are taken from me. Bruises and my memories are all that I have of Sarah. At least until the next time.

The End

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