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Her hands braced on the floor. She gyrated a welcome all over his fly. She smiled when a hand moved to her hip, clenching and steering, holding her more firmly against him. The hand moved down her hip, under her stomach, searching for a fly on pants that zipped at the hip. The feel of him fumbling at her clothes tickled, but she liked it. The hand stretching her new sweater clenched. He growled his frustration and pulled her upright. He leaned into the counter with her. He wrapped his arms so tightly around her and bit her ear, feeling her reaction roll through both of them. Her head fell back onto his shoulder and he mouthed her trapezius. It far more sensitive than anticipated. She fell forward into the counter and he held her down. She felt her breasts flatten on the cool marble beneath her, felt her whole pelvis creased by the edge of the counter, felt her labia pulse in anticipation. She reached back, trying to urge him on, but he backed up until all she felt of him was a hand. Dread filled my bones. You remember, don’t you, Ashes? My beautiful cat. That was the night I held you in my lap, knife concealed beneath my frock. I stroked you from nape to tail and when your delighted purr filled the room, I slid my blade into your heart. Oh! I’m so sorry about that! I could feel what was to come and I knew that I would need food. The loss of your company has been unbearable and your bones leave splinters in my gums. If only he had slipped, as she had, when he climbed her tower. But he did not. If only she had consumed him entirely when he stepped through her window. All might have been avoided. Instead she succeeded in only biting him. He shoved her to the ground and climbed back down the way he came. I was the catalyst, he was the change. The stench of the infection clung to him. His skin developing boils and sores. A hunger which could not be satiated filled him with pain and rage. A fight broke out in the tavern. Many were wounded, many were bitten. There.
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