UNTAMED DESIRES
She hesitates one heartbeat too long.
His grip tightens. “Now.”
She parts her lips, he pushes her fingers inside, pressing down on her tongue until she tastes herself, salt, sweet, shame, her eyes flutter closed.
“Good girl,” he says, softer this time…
He withdraws her hand, wipes it casually on the blanket, then reaches into his coat pocket. When his fingers emerge, they hold a perfect, chilled pear deep green-gold, the size of a large fist, stem still attached.
“First gift,” he tells her, “A partridge in a pear tree. You’ll take it tonight, all of it.”
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