‘Oh V,’ he breathed as his lips again descended to hers, his tongue being granted immediate entry to her mouth. His hand slid from her cheek down ...er throat to her breast, where he squeezed her gently. Suddenly tensing she rose up on her toes, her back arching against the wall. Drake pulled his lips from hers as a harsh cry erupted from her throat, her hands clutching at him, her fingers digging into his flesh. His hand nestled between her clenching thighs was drenched as she climaxed, his. And the higher the pile grew the more excited she became, counting down the days to Burn Night. There was always a second pile too, but this was different. It wasn’t the steepled stack of the bonfire, no. It was carefully arranged, sorted and stacked according to size and weight. This was the fuel pile, each piece to be added manually to the bonfire through the evening. I never did figure out why it was necessary. Finally, it would arrive: Burn Night. Torches made out of rags tied onto sticks. More

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