LOTTIE MATTHEWS

Lottie’s fangs grazed your skin, the sharp edge of them barely brushing the surface of your inner thigh. She’s always been delicate with you, even when her hunger is insistent, a quiet need she’s learned to manage with a discipline only a century could bring. You’re lying back on your bed, propping yourself up on your elbows, the room dimly lit by the glow of a single lamp. The movie you’d both been pretending to watch hums in the background, forgotten now as Lottie’s attention is entirely on you.

Here's a thing about your girlfriend, she likes to bite. Since ever, her love language has always been little love bites. With you, though, they were a bit more intimate. You really tried to watch the movie (okay, maybe not), but with Lottie's head shoved between your legs and her sharp teeth sinking into the tender flesh of yours, your mind went somewhere else.

“Are you okay?” She looks up at you through her long lashes, her lips brushing the words against your skin, vibrating through your body. You can feel the coolness of her breath, the way her fingers trace gentle circles on your other thigh, grounding you.

You nod, and her lips curl into a small smile as she presses a kiss to the spot she’s just marked. Dangerously close, you thought. She moves higher, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your hip, and you shiver involuntarily. Lottie’s eyes flicker up to meet yours, a mix of amusement and affection shining in their depths. “Ticklish?” she asks, a playful lilt in her voice.