The sweetest wine does not even compare. She is the premium vintage that connoisseurs search for. There is nothing that coats the tongue and tastes more divine than my lover's liquor. Sometimes I can be greedy—taking just a little more than I should—but it is unavoidable. If I were a weaker vampire, I would replete myself on her opulence. She is that intoxicating.

The longing I feel when she allows me to pierce her flesh is unexplainable. The tingle in my fangs as they close the gap between us shocks me into an abysmal plane. The contentment she brings me is repaid in the only way I know how.

I prepare her for penetration with distraction. My tongue laves at the sensitive skin of her breast while my fingers slide into the wet warmth between her thighs. They work in tandem, building up her momentum to fever pitch. The scent of her arousal works its way through me and I can taste it as well.

Ambrosia.

I strike just as she reaches her peak—the pain nullified by pleasure.

Her hands seek out my hair, holding my head to her, keeping me in position. With each mouth-filling pull I take more of her into me. She cries out in ecstasy and jerks my wrist up to her mouth. I relax my limb, giving her complete control over it and me. She takes me into her in a similar fashion and I shudder at the dual sensation of her mouth on me and my mouth on her. The continuous flow between us strengthens our tie, increasing our sense of the other tenfold.

Jubilation sets in; exhaustion overwhelms; a high unlike any other takes up residence. We curl into one another, never to be separated. Our joining unbreakable.