He fought them, and I didn't blame him. He said in that thick voice they all had in half-human form, He's hurting you. I kissed the edge of his thigh, and he opened his legs for me, let my face slip between them, so that the next kiss was against the smooth warmth of his inner thigh. He nodded, as if he didn't trust his voice, and was careful not to look at either of us as we walked him toward the lights of the parking lot.
My hands slid past his belt, to touch the top of his jeans. He kissed me as if he were tasting me, as if with tongue and teeth and lips he could drain from me every last drop of Nathaniel's blood and the taste of me along with it. She was also helping me cope with my abilities. He smiled, and his eyes were gentle, as if I were the child and he was so much older than I was.
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