His lips move down, off my neck. He draws one of my nipples into his mouth, teeth grazing it. Stars burst in front of my eyelids. I wind my fingers through his hair, holding him to me as every muscle tenses. The pain feels good. He could do this to me for an eternity, and I don’t think I’d ever get sick of his touch. He was made for me. Pain and pleasure. Isn’t that always how he does it?
