The Lion and the Lamb
"Not running away, are you?" A voice called from the shadows, startling her.
She snapped her head up and almost spilled her drink. "No."
"Then why did you leave so suddenly?" She shook her glass, swirling the contents, and staring intently into it as though the answer to the question on her mind would effervesce.
"I know you feel it, too," he started.
"What do you want?!" she spits at him, "Just what the hell do you want? Why won't you leave me alone? What is it that you want from me?!" Frustrated she turned away, leaning over the balcony railing. Turning back to see if he'd gone, she hadn't noticed when he'd walked over to her. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she came smack straight into his broad, lean chest. She looked up a foot or more to meet his face questioningly.
"I want.. What I want is to kiss those lips." His eyes were overcast with his unadulterated arousal that was so intense that she had to look away. He reached out and held her face, turning her head back to his, his fingers puckering her lips, a rough thumb tracing them. Her lips suddenly seemed scorched, absent-mindedly parting with offering. He gave a low chuckle that seemed to rumble in the hells of her most sinful desires. Bringing his mouth near, he let his words rasp over her wanton daze, his next words like a bucket of cold water after a drought. "Don't worry. I'll kiss these lips, too."
Her eyes widened in realization. She squirmed with her very own arousal and discomfort of such bold words.
"Look at me when I speak to you." he said firmly.
"I want you. I will have you." He lightly brushed his lips against hers in such a caress that it seemed as if he hadn't done it. "Next time, let it be the other. Or I'm gonna take you harder when I do get you. And you will be screaming at me for a month. And this time in pleasure."
And just as fast as he came, he left, leaving her like the aftermath of a tornado to collect her bearings and comprehend what just happened.