iBite.

Her head was buried in my neck, her hands were roaming all over my body and her teeth grazed across my jugular vein. My moans rang out into the gentle breeze of four P.M. and I spared a thought to the possibility of being caught by Spencer.

"He's visiting my Grandpa in Yakima," she said, as if reading my very hopes and fears.

"Okay," I managed to choke out before she clamped down on the pressure point located between my neck and shoulders.

"Sam!" yelled Freddie, jolting me out of my memories. I stutter out a half-assed insult about tics before running over to the staircase that she was walking down. "Hey, Carly! Over here!"

I wish she would let me kill him. I could so make it look like a painful accident.

I tune out of the pathetic attempts of romance that Freddie tries on her, we all know it's never going to happen. Even Freddie is about ready to give up all hope on ever getting the girl.

"Sam!" This interruption is much more welcome, especially since it is followed by an invitation over to her house. Poor Freddie has never looked so left out. Oh well, his loss, my gain.

Carly's mouth has moved to my shoulder, causing my near-naked body to writhe underneath her. I swear I could feel her smile into my bare skin. She bit down, hard, and my hips slammed up into hers. Pausing her movements, Carly grunted. She then bit back down on my shoulder, much harder.

I'm not too proud to say that I cried out, screaming for her to bite harder, or at least for longer.

I'm sure my fingernails left marks on her back. Deep red scars, standing out against her pale skin as a testament to what she does to me.

I've got my arm wrapped comfortably around my girl's waist, a spring in my step and the long way to her house in front of us. Three blocks back, Carly noticed that Freddie was following us. We disengaged from our comfortable embrace, choosing instead to walk almost impossibly close to each other. I've been muttering death threats towards the dork since then. At some point Freddie had disappeared. The embrace returned, but my low, almost growled out words did not. I continued to swear bloody murder, torture, and death by firing squad until Carly had successfully unlocked and opened her front door while not removing her hand from my hip.

She yanked me through the door, slamming it behind us. But it was mere milliseconds before my back hurt, a direct result of being thrown into a wooden door. Yes, sweet little Carly Shay actually threw me up against her door.

I have who knows how many hickeys and bite marks scattered across my body when I think she's finally done with me. Carly's face comes into my blurred vision, smirking at my semi-delirious state. She scrapes her nails down my torso, making sure to leave angry red marks behind. I growl at her, capturing her wrists and flipping her onto her bleeding back. My Carly winces slightly, but manages to smile at me. I know she's not in the bad sort of pain.

"My turn," I say before slamming my bruised lips onto hers. I taste blood, but I'm not sure whose it is.

Her lips were on mine, air quickly becoming a problem. It's harder to breathe while you're stuck between a door and the one and only Carly. Her hands tugged at the bottom of my shirt, her intentions clear. Just like they were every other day this week.

"Spenc-"

"At Grandpa's," she mumbled between kisses, not letting me finish my question. Carly's lips leave mine, clamping themselves onto my neck after practically tearing my shirt off. She suckles at my neck, going over her previous work. Her fingertips trace the healing scratches on my back, re-opening them when my thigh slams between her legs.

She clamps down on my jugular vein.

My memory becomes reality, it's happening again. Like it will until Spencer gets back from is weeklong trip to Yakima. It's happened six times since he left on Monday, and it's only Wednesday.

Carly guides me to the floor, removing clothes from both of us with practiced ease. I take a moment to stare at her body. It's covered in all manner of wounds. From hickeys to bites that have broken skin with scratches that go for days and bruises that look remarkably like my hands. I imagine that my body looks as bad as hers, if not worse. I can't help but wonder if anyone at school got suspicious, either of our relationship or the possibility that we got into a very physical fight. I doubt it though, they probably think I did something stupid and Carly tried to stop me, getting up both banged up in the process.

I collapse on top of her, pain, pleasure and exhaustion working together to undermine my minds will. My eyes close, the sounds of both of our breathing tuned out as my ears focus on a rhythmic noise. My eyelids spring open, I use the last of my fast-draining energy to look into Carly's beautiful brown orbs.

"Whas'at noise, Car'y?" I ask, between pants for air. Her eyes narrow, straining to hear what I'm talking about. She has problems doing this, she's in the same delirious state I am. Carly seems to be trying with all of her might to hear the noise, but it's for nothing, I see it before she hears it.

I saw it, the small pool of blood that had ripples flowing through it. I followed one of the drops as it fell, tracing back to the wound it was coming from. There is a hollow where her collarbone is, it's covered in fresh blood that it dripping onto the floor. Did I do that?

All fatigue is gone, I spring to my feet, running into the kitchen. I come back with the First-Aid kit, just as Carly did yesterday, before running off to grab a towel.

Wounds cleaned and dressed, Carly and I slipped into fresh outfits before laying more towels down to mop up the blood that had fallen to the floor. I wonder why we bothered getting dressed while I cradle my amazing Carly bridal-style, walking up the stairs to her bedroom. This time, there isn't any biting, or scratching, or blood smattered on the floor.

This time there's just Carly and me. Happy together.

Besides, there's always tomorrow.