Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

He tosses everything to the floor. When I look up over my
shoulder at him, he’s staring down at my naked body with wild
eyes and flared nostrils, tattooed chest heaving, his jaw and
big fists clenched.
A thrill runs through me.
It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Part terror, part desire,
and part pure adrenaline, it raises goose bumps on my arms
and legs and makes my wild heartbeat go arrhythmic.
The way he wants me makes me feel superhuman. Like
I’m capable of anything. Like all my atoms are vibrating at a
dangerously high speed, threatening to crack me wide open.
Like I could levitate right off this bed and set the whole
house on fire.
Looking up into his blazing dark eyes, I realize this is the
first time in my life I haven’t been afraid to be myself. The
first time I haven’t been scared of being judged. The first time
I don’t care about doing the safe thing, the smart thing, the
thing I “should” do.
The first time I’ve felt truly free.
I whisper, “Do it, then. Do it all. Give me all of you. And
don’t you dare hold back.”
In his split second of hesitation, he moistens his lips. His
lids drift lower.
Then he grabs me by the ankles, drags me to the edge of
the bed, leans down, and takes a big, greedy mouthful of my
ass.
He sinks his teeth into it with an animal’s snarl.
It’s a primitive sound of victory. Like a lion gloating over a
fresh kill.
Then in place of his teeth, I get his hand. His open palm
meets the spot his mouth just was with a stinging crack that
makes me jump and yelp in shock.
He starts to speak to me in Russian.