The hot lava flowed

Through crevices of pure lust

cones of ardor

soft rain of sweat

slid torsos together

hurtling hills and valleys

as hurricanes rushed

to exhale their passion

sizzling cauldrons scorched

blistering souls

hands reaching mountains

mouths arousing embers

carnal rivers touching marrow

eruption of untamed essence

savage and raw and taboo.

i had you once,

thinking about me

twice-

two times the speed of

stroke, 

every breath of innocence...you took,

every exhale in frothy lust.

seeded moments of our time in love-

aching for just one touch

you brush up against yourself,

as smoothly as you can, 

close your eyes and

imagine me there. 

i become your second hand.

You edge for me.

Your limbs reaching,

fingernails clawing.

I tease you slightly,

as my lips brush along,

along you.

Your eyes covered,

all you see is black, 

and now.

Now there is no turning back.

I watch you with a crooked smile,

and take you on a high mile ride,

twisting and turning,

biting and playing.

I teach you to be a pawn,

in a game of chess,

under the sheets,

where you will never rest.

I hear your pleasure filled moans,

while you scream for release,

little do you know,

I can make you release the beast.

So hold on tight.

You edging for me,

is all I need, 

your limbs reaching,

fingernails scratching.

We soil the sheets,

tossing and turning,

as I made you edge,

edge for me.

     She shivers on soft satin sheets, twisting and torquing; tantalizing torture. A breath billows and blows behind her ear. Sweet sweat slides sinfully slow, riding rising ridges. A riot rushes through her. Her heart, head heed a hardness, a heat, a pleasure pulsing and pounding. A pinch, playful pain. The pace rises, ramps, rages. Delving deep, dancing in the darkness, divulging desires she didn't know she needed. It's mounting, amassing. Moisture flowing free. Freedom. Clutching covers, she can't control the contortions.

     And she wouldn't want to.

A pathetic noise escaped her lips as she moved toward the sleeping man who smelt deeply of cinnamon and cedar wood. As she moved closer his eyes jerked open. She stopped as her blue eyes lock into his own brown orbs. She shuddered as she watched the blackness of his pupils engulf the rest of his eyes in the light of the fire, and she knew without a doubt that hers did the same. Hunter growled deep in his throat, body tense as if he'd pounce on her any second.

"Hunter! Outside!" Angus growled standing up to his full height. Hunter looked at him with his darkened eyes and lip raised angrily, baring white teeth. "Now." Angus said authoritatively, voice deep and terrifying.

Hunter reluctantly stood up, unraveling to his full height. The small girl stared up at him with hungry eyes, mapping out his body. Her gaze walked up his strong legs to his thick thighs, and her mouth opened involuntarily as she stopped at the thick patch of hair between his thighs where the V of his hips met. Alpha, rang through her head on repeat. The arousal she felt had a dizzying effect. He was all hard edges beneath her gaze. She followed his thick and corded arm up to a solid chest. His jaw cut and lips full with dark brown hair falling around his face. He had watched her the whole time, and there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. She released small whimper from her parted mouth and reached for his leg.

When her delicate fingers wrapped around Hunter's ankle, the warmth burnt his skin. He hissed, jerking away from her with an angry curse and headed towards the door. His instincts threatening to take over, clouding his vision. 

Mine, chanted over and over in his head on, followed by claim. He leaned against the door with one arm trying to calm himself. He took a deep breath and immediately regretted doing so. Her irresistibly sweet scent filled his nose, now heavily laden with arousal. 

His head whipped around as he gazed at the girl, her eyes lidded with blatant need. He ground his teeth, brows furrowed angrily. He looked over at his father who had not changed his assertive stance, a growl ripping it's way from his throat. 

Will all his strength, he ripped the tunic his father had replaced on the rack and pulled it over his messy head. The girl made a broken noise that caught in the back of her throat, and she curled into herself as he almost ripped the wooden door off its bindings. He stomped out into the stormy afternoon, but not after sparring a deadly look at his father at the sound of her distress.