"How dare you doubt me. How dare you doubt my love for thee. How dare you, after all that we've been through, think I would still leave!"
And he stung her spine from the small of her back to the top of her skull. Her back arched in helpless majesty, sending nipples as taut as marbles airborne, filling his horizon with declaration of lust and feral needs. She was no more a woman, nor identity or name. She was his bow, while the electric stabs of lust that stung her spine and numbed her mind, his arrows.
Her arm reached instinctively above her, pressing her palm against the headboard in a reflex of protecting her head from slamming against it from the impact of her orgasms. When her elbow gave, he saw the danger and stilled himself inside her. Breathing whispers of each other's gods and profanities and names.
"My god. Woman. What would it take. To have you. Believe? I am here, wholly and deeply in your soul. I am here, in your arms and cunt and mouth and name."
He began rocking again. Deliberately. His jaw clenched. His words chanted, holy mantras and submission to karma. From the mouths of true believers, words gain power and promises become spells. "I am here, your master and man. Your pleasure and pain. I am here, and you are mine. For we are one. I am here. All of I. I am yours. My love. My whore. My woman. My love. My true love. My all."
And yet when she awoke the next morning, she barely recalled that night’s dream.
