Blood. Fire. Blood. Passion. Blood. Pleasure. Blood. Desire. Blood. Rapture. Blood. Orgasm. Blood.
Eyes closed.
Body trembled.
It was her fault. She was the one that showed the blood. She asked for it. Hands slowed as lips slow. Tongue lapped trying to get every last drop. Sex. Memory. Eyes closed. Past memory. Hands. On my breasts. My inner parts. The flow of blood. The raw untapped power. My body flushed warmed. Every delicious sensation ripped through me. In that moment I was more a god. More untouchable. The blood sang to me. Hungered for my mouth. My lips. My tongue.
She whimpered quietly. Too tight my hold I supposed. I let go. She stumbled away. As was her place. I wanted to chase. I yearned for it. It sang for me alone. All my strength to stand there. Slowly I licked my lips. The sexual pleasure pulsing through me. My one vice. Well one of my vices. Blood. Pure. Unadulterated. Blood. My mind pressed through the memories as I straightened my clothes. Presence. That was the key, to look better than the others.
Blood was licked off my fingers as I turned to look out the one way mirror. The throbbing and dancing of the crowd below. The beat of it all. A sly smile crossed my lips knowing that the others would be coming soon. My laughter cut through the air of the quiet office. "Anton Smith ... you know we will find you ...." My voice was quiet. The door opened and a large smile filled my face before I turned to greet who came.