I'm breathing you in, my hands trailing over your delicious body. You're trembling, probably wondering what my next move will be. I think, to some extent, you already know, even though you don't want to believe it.

I can feel that the others are watching us, waiting, wondering when I will strike and pepper my mouth all over you. Maybe I'll use grazing teeth. Maybe I'll use stroking tongue. It all depends on how badly I want to taste how you feel.

I push you back so you're lying on the ground, no longer sitting on your knees in front of me. As much as I enjoy seeing you on your knees, your head tilted up to look at me through your long eyelashes, this isn't the time for that kind of fun.

My eyes wander over your skin, drinking in your perfections. I can't wait to begin. I've waited long enough to have you, and now I have the chance to take you first.

Thinking of where to place my excited hands, I straddle your hips. I run my hands up your bare sides, tracing glorious curves that the other ones my people and I shared never had. You're the first one whose body calls out to me, begging for me to dig in and claim you as mine, mine mine.

The anticipation is killing me.

I lean over you, my hands stroking down your body as I press my face into your neck. My lips open, ready to strike, and suddenly I change my mind. I'm not going to start where the other's think I will, where I always start. Instead, I'll begin at my favourite part, the place I normally save for last.

I raise my head to look into your terrified eyes. Your bright blue eyes are pleading for me to stop. As much as I'd like to keep you alive so I could play with you, I know that I can't. It's not polite to play with your food.

I trace my hand over your pale cheek. I stoke my fingers up to your temple, pull back, and plunge my fingers into your eye socket. Your agonizing screams crash into me full force as I pluck out your eyeball, holding it up by the strings of tissue behind it. I dangle it in front of your face at my eye level before I sit up, open wide, and drop it into my awaiting mouth.

I can feel the others behind me whining, aching to join in on the feast.

Before I let them run over and start tearing away at your lovely flesh, I move down your body to face your breasts while I chew. I push my face into your cleavage after I swallow, listening to your erratic heartbeat while I try to ignore your glass-shattering shrieks. I sink my bloody teeth into your heaving chest, ripping out a mouthful of flesh before I turn to face the others behind me.

Their eyes are full of lust and hunger. Some of them are fidgeting while others are crouched, waiting to pounce on you, aching to eat you alive.

As your warm blood runs down my chin and pools on my chest, staining my bra with delicious crimson, I nod. The others run over to you, and just before they crash into your body, I lean down and whisper into your ear, "Next time, I'll draw this out a bit longer. Who knew I would enjoy eating out so much?"