He used his hands to help his mouth, pour so carefully over me, his breath like heat against my skin. His eyes were closed, his face screwed tight with pain. The bite would take the longest to heal, and even that would be gone in few days, a week at the outside. She leaned into the desk again and turned a page.
Somewhere in the last please, he began to force himself inside me. What I wanted to do was take his hand and walk out into the night until we found some woods. I felt my teeth sinking into flesh, through hair that was rough and choking on my tongue. Not much, but some.
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