"A thousand kisses." So he says. Each one to be deemed unique.
He is to make a game of me; my reasoning the judge, my body the game board, my lips the prize. Beginning, I didn't resist as he loosed the silk lacings, kissing each gentle rise of each bone down the center of my back. Starting at the base of my neck, he moved slowly down until there were no more. On his ascent, the heat of his breath rises, tickling the tender flesh. Raising his head expectantly, I hold up one finger as I look over my shoulder, murmuring "One kiss." The first of many in this match. He knows he has almost gone too far.
I draw my laces tight, both physically and within my mind. Saying to myself "It isn't real."
He makes every opportunity his, the game is ever present. During tea, honey falls to my sleeve, smearing over the soft flesh of my inner wrist. Initially annoyed, I begin to withdraw my hand; a soft, impatient noise slipping past my lips. This, he does not allow as his hand snakes forth, barely capturing the tips of my fingers. Bending my hand back almost painfully, he exposes my wrist in a vulgar way as his lips descended upon the flesh, stealing this sweetness before it even warms to my pulse. As he smiles, I look away from him, towards the frosted window whispering "Two."