Feather strokes of his nails up and down her inner forearms. Her eyes closed, the indulgence of his touch almost to the point of intoxication. Chills left in the wake of his touch, his slender fingers laced with hers as he pulled her into his arms to welcome her home.
Maria Hightower was ten going on eighteen that summer. The only girl in the family, and all the kids teased her and told her that she would be just like her mother one day. The town whore. Kids can be mean at that age, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. She wore makeup, smoked when she could find half of a cigarette lying around and even took a sip of her mother’s alcohol-infused coffee from time to time. She was going nowhere fast and would be pregnant by the age of sixteen.
How deeply you have fallen, my darling. You once wore the dress of a debutante, and now, you wear the Scarlet letter on your flesh. One stained with regret closes their eyes out of sorrow, not anticipation. In the darkness of her haven, she finds him again.
The brush dripping with paint, the artist puts her soul into her work. Stark white, she held the tip of her finger over the bucket, piercing the skin with a needle. One drip, two, three, mesmerized as she watched strands of red taint the bucket. One person’s chaos is another person’s masterpiece.
Have you ever been bitten and felt a pang of excitement? A small wave of pleasure as the teeth pushed into your flesh? She hadn’t until a recent client, and then, my addiction began. He paid an extra ten grand to bite her in addition to the usual suck and fuck. She’s had a few bite her in the past, but nothing could compare to this one.