Red

I stare into space,
entirely engaged,
completely absorbed.
Removed,
from my body, the room, the chaos in my mind.
In front of me, he sprawls, legs open, teeth clenched, hands fisted at his side.
He pants.

With my right hand, I squeeze slightly harder, my left pulls.
His breath hitches.
I know if I move, even minutely, it will be his limit.

Instead,
I raise my hand and slap.
One, Two, Three Times
Hard
His body responds.
His hand reacts, moving down.
Immediately, I assault it.

He moves,
not wanting to disrupt the onslaught.
I glance at him.
His eyes are closed.
I pinch his head.
They open.
Wide.
I smile.

My eyes drift off,
sight distracts.
With it, I loose focus,
greedy for more of him.

Concentrating on my hand,
I feel his heartbeat,
in every vein, with every breath.
It quickens
as blood rushes down from his chest
to pool in his groin.

Waves of musk and saltiness
roll off his skin, as beads of his sweat
coat my hands.
"Harder", he pleads.
Immediately, my hands are butterflies,
skimming, flitting, never landing.
He growls.

Striking.
I take him all
and bite,
all teeth and sharpness.

His pulse speeds.
His breath labored.
For a moment, he calls me God.
Just before we both see red.