I thought I was chasing you. When I saw you for the first time, your dark brown hair in the golden light, the softness of your smile and the brightness in your eyes, I knew I had to have you. I was hungry after all.
I chased you around until you were turned around. Somehow I got you to ask me out. I was so practiced at my bashfulness, my ruse, that you laughed and all but hugged me. I could feel the teeth within my torso salivating with anticipation.
I offered to buy us drinks. My tech job pays well I said. You looked at my tits for a few minutes, I watched you, and I felt so very proud, so pleased with how the night was going. I joked to you about it, I could feel the heat radiating from your face as you needlessly apologized. I wondered what it would taste like if that hot blood were coursing within my mouth.
You laughed and told me I should keep up, otherwise I’d be disadvantaged. I drank a beer, feeling the warmth spread through my chest. I was feeling myself growing to like you. Your lightness is infectious, and in spite of the hunger that I cannot sate, I wonder if I should just be good.
You pulled me close and took me along, taking me back to your place. You didn’t seem to have that need, no suspicious puddles, no unusual brown stains, nothing at all to suggest what you had in store for me.
I ran my fingers up your legs, and your moan implied nothing about what you had in store. How you ground into my hand belied the gnashings of your teeth. The way you shuddered and spasmed, pinching my fingers belied the stinging of your saliva in my cuts. The softness of your breasts belied the rasp of your tongue.
The way you embraced me close made me question my recollection when you ripped out my heart and made it your own.
I’m so thankful that you asked to be my wife.