Exhibition: Six Sentence Sunday

[jacquelineb]

Continued from here

She curls her finger around, so the flat of her nail runs smooths across his nape. He exhales, and seems to relax, as if anticipating that she’ll stop.

That makes her smirk.

She turns the nail again, now so the point is pressed down, a tiny furrow forming in his skin as she draws it down to his collar. When she crosses it over the vertebra where his neck bends, the bone hard under her touch. And as she brings it back up again, he’s panting, low enough that only she can hear him.

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