I remember everything. Everything that my heart deems important enough to remember at least. Like the night we met, the way my heart pounded when we kissed, the realization that I loved him. The memories are wrapped in details from all five of my senses. The scent of his skin, the taste of his mouth, the sound of his breath as I pulled him close, the feel of him as he buried himself inside of me.

Not long after I moved in he arranged for a night alone, just the two of us. We showered together and went to our room. The candles we’d purchased together from Ikea warmed the room and cast the perfect light across the walls and high ceilings. He poured us a glass of wine to share, sweet homemade wine from someone his father knew.

I admit impatience. He sipped his wine and pressed play on my laptop. A haunting sound filled the room and for the briefest moment I felt like a fly caught in the spiders web. My heart raced and the moisture between my thighs was already evident though he had yet to touch me.

The silky softness of my robe caressed my nipples as it fell open. My breasts were exposed to his gaze and it crossed my mind to cover up but the look in his eyes stopped me short. I watched him take the razor blade from the package and sanitize it. Never in my life had I been so frightened, so certain that the pain would be more than I could handle.

He whispered something I couldn’t understand and held the razor blade to his arm. I saw the slightest trickle of blood and heard his sharp intake of breath. He touched his tongue to his arm then took a sip of wine. As he turned toward me, our eyes met and held. He held his arm before my mouth and I accepted it readily. The metallic taste of his life source filled my mouth and I knew then and there that nothing would ever be as erotic as tasting his blood.

With slow and steady movements he climbed onto the bed beside me. He was on his knees, looking for all the world like the god he was in my mind. I closed my eyes and sighed as the tips of his fingers pushed my robe off my shoulder. I’m sure he spoke to me but I was too far gone to make sense of it. He moved my hair and touched the top of my breast just over my heart. I nodded with certainty.

The pain shot through me as he barely sliced through my skin with the razor blade. White hot pain that sent me spinning headlong into something I’d never felt before. In the distance I heard him asking if I was alright and I felt myself nod. I leaned back against the pillows piled high behind my back and gave in to the moment.

As his mouth closed over the place he’d cut I began to climax ever so gently. I opened my eyes and wrapped my fingers in his hair, anxious to keep him there a little longer. He lingered briefly then pulled from me. His mouth captured mine and the tastes mingled on my tongue.

In an instant he was inside of me. His cock was harder than I ever thought it could be and I knew I’d never been so wet in my life. Slowly he made love to me, barely moving, staying as deep in me as he could. It seemed forever that we stayed that way, locked in the most intimate of all embraces. Moments later I felt his cock spasm and fill me with his essence.

I remember everything. Even if I didn’t remember that night, I need look no further than my left breast where the scar has faded slightly but still serves as the reminder that today I so badly need. When the last breath is about to leave my body, I’ll move his hand to cover the scar on my breast and I’ll remind him to not forget. I’ll remind him that no matter what, I remember.