Luv Bites

The disturbed ‘Who, who,’ of an owl marked the stroke of midnight and followed hard upon the inhuman snarl that rent the air like a jagged claw through fine silk, and sent the creatures, both big and small, of the forest and of the night, racing for safety; away from the dangerous being that had invaded their territory.

In the dark, she saw a him, swiftly dodging between the gnarled trunks of the ancient oaks in this grove that was alive with unknown whispers. Then the low taunting chuckle of her prey trailed back to her. ‘Catch me if you can,’ it challenged.

“Lover where are you?” The beast modulated her voice to a pleasant inviting level. Well hiding the frustration she had just given vent to. They had been playing this exciting but dangerous game all week. He showed up in the most unexpected places, teasing her with tantalizing glimpses of himself. Flitting in and out of her sight, then, moving like the wind he vanished as mist—slipping through her fingers again. He was good.

But she was better.

This night she was the huntress and the hunger was sharp within her. The monthly shifts of the moon goddess had decreed—it was time.

In the end she would get her man. As always.

She finally came upon in him the clearing, deep in the sacred heart of the forest. Ringed around the perimeter of this place—this temple whose name dare not be spoken—were stones placed at regular intervals, hinting at mysterious rites of times past.

And within the circle of granite sentinels, her quarry laid, naked as the day his creator made him—gloriously so. Her gaze roved over his perfect form. He was darkly tanned, the colour of cinnamon—smooth and even, and was broad of chest and shoulder, with sturdy well-shaped limbs.

She approached him, gliding forward. Kneeling between his splayed legs, she held his unwavering gaze, letting him see his destiny in hers eyes—this night would be his last. The beast bared her teeth, running the well-lubricated meat of her blood red tongue across the top row; pausing momentarily to caress the pointed eyeteeth.

She started at his feet, licking her way up one leg then the other until she reached the apex of his thighs. As rich bubbles of laughter gurgled up within her, she paused.

She’d heard many of her kind say all men tasted alike. The Fools. She knew the slight differences, the subtleties in taste, texture, and colour. Only a true one of the highest order, a connoisseur like herself could detect, with the sensitive tip of her delicate tongue, the intoxicating variances.

After a prolonged amount of time to insure her lover-prey was whipped up into a frenzy of agonized passion, she kissed, licked and tasted her way up to his sweetly shaped, enticing mouth—a mouth that was begging to be devoured.

She place one chaste kiss of penance on those sweet, sweet lips, denying them both the completion of the act that they both sought just a little bit longer.

Then she moved her attentions to his vulnerable neck, the seductive curve between head and shoulder, and with sudden viciousness, sank her teeth deep into his flesh. The satisfying snap as her bite scored down to the core of him was honeyed music to her twitching ears. And the delicious taste of him, of his very essence….she swallowed back satiated groan. The taste fed her bloodlust.

But better still, were his cries of deliverance. The raw sounds of his anguish were unfettered and he yelled out his fulfillment as she bit down again and again.

Out here in the depths of the woods, under the sickly light of the new born moon, no one could hear the screams of her lover, her...






...GingerBread Man

;)