His warm, wet tongue laps at the small scar on my chest, and then he drags my hand away from his chest and licks a line all the way up the scar on my forearm. When he reaches my wrist, he bites down hard on the soft skin there, making me cry out in shock. There’s something vicious in the action. Something primal. Like he’s trying to punish me, maybe, or teach me a lesson.
