“Wow,” Marcus breathed, peering up between the trees to see the gargantuan yellow moon overhead. He prodded his date with an elbow and pointed skyward. She shrugged him off before following his finger.
“Jesus,” Gemma said. “I’ve never seen the moon look like that.” It was a harmless lie. He was trying to be romantic, despite his clumsiness at doing so. She didn’t want him to get discouraged. He was kind of cute, with blue eyes and long black hair. He certainly made an attractive counterpoint to her hazel and blonde combination. She watched her feet carefully, following Marcus as he navigated the forest path with his flashlight.
Soon, they broke into a small clearing. Gemma stopped and stared at the scene before her. The entire place had been cleared of pine cones and branches, sitting in a large pile off to the side. There was a large pile of blankets centered in the grove, giving a perfect view of the swollen moon’s face. Marcus turned to face her, adjusting his glasses before gesturing to the scene around them.
“What do you think?” He took her hands and pulled her closer. Gemma could smell him, his deodorant and shampoo smelled manly and clean, contrasted by the sweat he’d worked up bringing her here. It smelled manly too, but in a more earthy and natural way. She inhaled deeply.
“I love it,” Gemma replied, her voice coming out huskier than she’d expected. She pulled Marcus closer and pressed her lips to his. Heat surged through her, leaving her skin flushed. She was breathing heavily as he pulled away, taking her hand and guiding her to the blankets. He sat down and pulled her to him. She landed in his lap, squealing in surprise and delight. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. “So,” she spoke softly into his ear, “did you know that the moon supposedly makes people crazy?”
“How so?” Marcus asked, putting one hand on her hip and the other behind her back to press her into him. She was warm, almost feverishly so. He could see the scarlet blush of her skin under just the moonlight. “Do you have a fever? You’re awfully warm.”
Gemma giggled at that, raking her fingernails through his hair. “No,” she breathed against his neck, “I don’t have a fever.” She kissed, hot lips pressing hard to his flesh. Under her tongue she could feel the goosebumps raise his skin. She smiled and kept kissing, moving up his neck to his jaw. She nibbled, feeling her lower lip drag across the short stubble of his face. “As I was saying,” she whispered between kisses, “the moon makes people crazy.” She smiled again, her lips now brushing his.
“I’m beginning to see that.” Marcus replied, unable to suppress his own grin. He had the feeling that Gemma was a wild one, but his midnight forest gambit was paying off far better than he’d honestly expected. “Does it do anything besides make you want to screw me?”
Gemma sat back, pulling far enough away from him to lightly smack his face. “Naughty.” She admonished, giving her lip a little bite. “Yes. It’s where the words lunacy and lunatic come from.”
“Mmhmm,” Marcus mumbled, pulling her to him by the back of her neck. She curled her fingers in his hair in response, a thrill running perceptibly up her spine.
“It has also been linked to.. “ she let the statement hang for a moment, using the time to kiss him again, their tongues finally meeting. She moaned into his mouth before sitting back on his lap again. “Linked to sexual promiscuity and other,” Gemma let go of him to start slipping out of her tank top, “unscrupulous activities.” The little black top came up over her head and off, discarded onto the blanket next to them. She shifted her legs, moving from sitting across his lap to straddling him.
“I can see that too.” Marcus dug his fingers into the back of her neck. “Help me with this?” He let go, putting his arms up and waiting for Gemma to pull his shirt over his head. Instead, she pushed his arms back down. He glanced at her quizzically before she grabbed the t-shirt’s collar and ripped the blue fabric from neck to stomach in one hard pull. Marcus yelped, more from shock than anything else.
Gemma growled low in her throat, an animalistic sound that raised the hairs on Marcus’ neck. God she was freaky. Her nails dragged down his torso, ending at the bottom of his ruined shirt where it stubbornly clung together. She gripped the sides and tore it the rest of the way apart, laying his entire abdomen bare. She leaned close, digging her nails into his chest and biting at his collarbone. He could feel his own face smoldering with heat as he reacted to her attentions.
“You know what else the moon is connected to?” She was speaking as she trailed down his chest, her lips brushing his skin lightly. Her path cooled in the night air as she went lower.
It was hard for him to think straight. Marcus stuttered for a second before his mind gave him the only answer he could find at the second. “Werewolves?” He asked. Gemma bit him just above the belly button, a sharp sting that made him jump, inhaling with a hiss. Then she licked and kissed, soothing the marks she’d left.
“That’s right,” she replied, pulling herself back up to sit on his hips. She leaned back in the moonlight, the faint yellow glow washing over her pale flesh. Marcus stared, hypnotized. He’d had sex with other girls, but Gemma was definitely special. He ran his hands up her flat stomach to her breasts. “I fucking love werewolves.” She said.
“Really,” Marcus replied, his own mind on just about anything but werewolves.
“Yes.” She ground her hips against him, ignoring his belt buckle as it prodded at her. “They’re so strong, animalistic, brutal. They’re just sexy. And then there’s the whole moon connection.” She leaned down close over Marcus’ face. “You know my favorite kind of werewolf?”
He shook his head. He was tiring of werewolf talk and wanted to get to the screaming. He put his hands around Gemma’s throat and squeezed a little. Her mouth opened in a smile and he could see her teeth. They were brilliantly white and gleaming. He couldn’t help but notice that they looked sharp.
She put her hands around his and squeezed tighter, her blood singing in her ears with the treatment. She moaned loudly, a sound that reverberated in her petite chest and vibrated against Marcus’ palms. Her hands slid down his arms to his biceps. “Lycanthropes.” She breathed, fighting through the pressure around her throat to utter the word. Her voice was hoarse as she arched her back in the moonlight. “They’ve got all the advantages of a werewolf without all that fur. What do you think?”
“Uh huh,” Marcus grunted, the discomfort in his jeans now at an apex and needing to be remedied soon.
“God,” Gemma whispered, “I can hear it.” Her head cocked to the side. She squeezed his biceps. “I can feel it. I need it.”
“What?” He muttered, his face and chest were burning with heat and he felt the need to just tear into her already, devour her completely.
He paused. Gemma slammed his arms to the ground, pinning them effortlessly to the blanket. She leaned over his face again. Her teeth were huge, sharp spines of ivory that pressed her lips apart. Her eyes glowed bright in the moonlight, reflecting its pale yellow hue in their burning depths. Her chest rumbled, visibly shuddering. Marcus felt his bowels let go, the warmth soaking his jeans.
Gemma lunged, her jaw popping like a python’s as she clamped her dagger like teeth around Marcus’ throat. She shook ferociously, tearing through the walls of the big blood vessels. The hot fluid coated her mouth, pumping down her throat in a coppery wash of burning ecstasy. When the blood finally stopped flowing, she licked the wound clean. Exhausted, Gemma slid off of Marcus’ slowly cooling stomach and rested her head against his unmoving chest. She wiped her face, smearing the sticky blood down her neck and chest.
She gazed up at the full moon. Its wan light prickled against her flesh, bristling her body hairs and sending a pleasurable thrill across her body. Gemma jerked up, her body arching off of its resting place. Her jaw fell open and she bayed at the face of the yellow moon, a deep, sardonic howl that echoed through the forest around her. Thousands of tiny animals scattered in every direction. She laid her head back down on the fleshy pillow that may have ended up being her lover, had he chosen a different night to be romantic. She traced a circle around her belly with one fingernail, prodding here and there to listen to the blood slosh within. Gemma smiled, placing one of Marcus’ arms over her, chewing at it thoughtlessly while she drifted into a languorous slumber.
About the Author:
S. K. Gregory is an author, editor and blogger. She currently resides in Northern Ireland.
“Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.”