His head is busy moving between my parted thighs. He makes low purr-like sounds between my legs and is so surprisingly ravenous I can feel his teeth. His nails bit into my thighs as he devours me like he's the one deriving pleasure from the act, and I'm so turned on by the way he laps me up, that I come.

Kick and claw all you like. Scream. Hit me. Curse the f*ck out of me. You won't sleep anywhere but with me tonight.

I used to dream of medals and championships, but now I dream solely of a blue-eyed fighter who one day changed my life, when he put his lips on mine. . .

We won't be having an affair." I stare dumbly, certain I just heard an organ in my body crack in my chest. His hands clamp around me, and he crushes me to his body as he slides his nose along the shell of my ear. "When I take you, you'll be mine," he says, a soft promise in my ear.

By the time those electric blue eyes seek me out in the stands, my heart throbs fiercely in my temples, and my insides bubble with emotion when he spots me. He stares straight into my eyes, and his eyes are only mine, and his smile is only mine, and for this fraction of an instant, nothing else matters but us.

It feels like he's marking me. Like he's preparing me for something monumental. That could both change and ruin my life.

An orgasm is not what I want and I know it. What I want, need, is so much more than that. It's the connection.The exhilarating contact with this human being, a being that compels me like no other. I miss his touch, his kiss. I don't care if he gives me just a little kernel of what he can give; I'm just starving to be fed, and my body has never been like this hungry.