“Bite me again . . . on the opposite side,” I whimpered, full of the intensity of my need.
Timothy froze, lifted up, and stared down at me. “I have given you the pooka bite, my darling wife. Why would you want me to bite you again?” he asked.
I couldn’t explain it, I simply knew that he must do so. I lifted my lips back to his and with my hands and arms tried to pull him back down. But Timothy was much, much stronger than me. He continued to stare down at me, searching my eyes, trying to understand the need that had come over me.
It took him too long to figure out that this was something I really, really wanted. Giving in to my words, at last, he lowered himself back into position and went to work lathing my neck as he had done on our wedding night, only this time he focused on the opposite side. I wiggled from the agony of it, not from the pain or my fear of it hurting, but because something was driving me to make this final connection between us, and I lusted for the feel of his teeth on my neck.
A moment later, he bit. The initial pain did cause me to cry out, but in the next second, I was urging Timothy on and savoring the feel of his pooka-laced aphrodisiac.
Our sexual encounter was beyond words. Not just the bite, but what came after. We were both heightened in our thirst for what was to come, and the completion we each soon felt sent us flying into ecstasy, far beyond what we’d found before.
And when our sweat-strained bodies lay limp with only brief kisses, loving embraces, and whispered words of love, I knew that something had changed between us. I could feel that inside me, could feel the added connection between us, and knew that at last we were completely joined as one.
“That was really something,” Timothy breathed into my ear. “What came over you, over us?”
I shrugged, not having any understanding really about the pooka world, but I knew that what had driven me had been a necessary conclusion for our linkage.
He cuddled me closer, kissed my neck in the place where he’d just bitten me, then moved to kiss the other side. “Do you think I’ll have to bite you again later?”
I giggled, in spite of the fact that I was a non-giggler. In fact, I’d always hated women who giggled, contemptuous of such flirtations as I’d viewed them. But what did I know of the world? I giggled a second time. My need had been totally wild, totally crazy, and I . . .
“You are you, my darling. Giggles or not. And what we just experienced was wild, but wonderful. You, my sweet wife are absolutely perfect.”
He was invading my mind again, seeing all my self-doubts. I started to complain about his invasion into my thoughts when I realized that I could read his: he was feeling guilty for having caused me pain and hoping that the wound wouldn’t scar.
“I know your thoughts,” I murmured. “How is that possible? You told me it would happen. You said that I’d be able to read your mind just as you were able to read my thoughts. I remember now. It was all true!”