Not gentle. Not slow. Not the careful exploration of a first encounter. This was the continuation of something started in a farmhouse, the sequel to a story that had been building since the first time she'd looked at me with disgust that couldn't quite hide curiosity. Her mouth opened under mine and she tasted like cherry candy and aggressive intent, her tongue pushing forward to meet mine with the same competitive energy she brought to combat.
My hands found her waist. Bare skin where the lingerie left nothing to the imagination. Her body was warm and solid against me, muscle and softness in proportions that made fashion designers weep. I pulled her closer and she gasped into my mouth, the sound vibrating against my lips.
She bit me.
Not hard enough to draw blood. Hard enough to make a point. Her teeth caught my lower lip and tugged, and when she released me her violet eyes were burning with something that looked like triumph.
