Sunday, June 3, 2012

Six Sentence Sunday – The Font

Coming June 29

The friction of his flesh plying hers incited not just that heavy feeling of growing brightness, but also small, quick darts of pure stomach-twisting delight.  Her hips were moving against his now, forcing him in deeper, as deep as he could plunge.  She made little sounds of breathless encouragement as his glamour faded and she could vocalize again.
Naya didn’t call for help.  She knew she was being stupid.  This vampire had forced himself on her, had drank of her blood, was even now still licking the wounds he’d made with the slow satisfaction of a cat tasting a few drops of cream. 

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