A Bit of Distraction

This is a Chapter 3 insert for my currently complete, but still in the process of being posted, story "Without Parole" on ff.net. You can find the link on my profile here.

I totally made edits to this. I was re-reading some old lemony favorites of mine and realized that what I'd written needed to be kicked up a few notches because I wasn't doing myself or my readers any justice...

-x-x-x-x-x-


A Bit of Distraction...

By the time they'd managed up his spiral staircase without accidents, they'd lost all footwear along the way. Rayn had taken the liberty of cooling off by removing her blouse, the lukewarm air giving rise to goose pimples. Despite the long jagged scar between her breasts that had interrupted her otherwise flawless, olive skin, the woman was an embodiment of fierceness. The chatoyant amber in her eyes invited him - her peeling of clothing, a declaration, as she did not shy from the gaze that drunk from the delicious sight.

Razer sat at the foot of his king size bed, his fingers hooked under her knee as his breath tickled against her thorax, wafting words across her breasts.

"Impressed already? We have yet to reach the good part."

The woman smirked, unraveling her braid that had been released somewhere through the living room. The bedroom wasn't superfluous in size and just what she'd expect from the bachelor. The height of his dark wooden furniture gave the room a majestic touch, the clean lines defining the man's preference for organization and the twelve foot headboard of chocolate-brown mohair, his personal taste for textures. Eyeing the numerous and untouched throw pillows in an array of patterns, Rayn almost wanted to reach out and hug one before getting down to business.

"Just admiring your interior design, is all. Just one thing is missing."

His arm encircling her waist, Razer reached to his nightstand where he grabbed a remote control. Aiming at the wall adjacent from the bed, there was a click before the wall began to roll up. A second click and the Krew Heiress was officially impressed.

"A fireplace!"

"Is that what you were looking for?"

Rayn didn't want to admit that it was- or else it would seem like he knew her too well already. And what was the fun in being predictable?

A small desk perched in the corner - a study where the criminal took time to specialize in either skills or interests - she was left to wonder. The sliding doors opened to a balcony in which Rayn vowed to see later and from the bed, she could make out the doorway outside that led back downstairs- most likely a shortcut to his prized showroom when he was in the grease monkey mood.

"Convenient," she thought.

"Memorizing your exits in case of emergencies, Miss Krew?"

Razer coaxed her into his lap. As her heels hitched behind his back, she feathered the stems of his collarbone with her lips.

"Maybe I am."

She could feel the light laugh he was trying to conceal when he reciprocated with a string of feverish kisses behind her ear. The combination of his tongue twirling and sweeping where her ear dipped into her jaw and his humming that she could feel rather than hear, Rayn surrendered to girlish sighs. When the racer's stubble sanded her throat, even if she tried to stop it, her smile was from ear to ear.

"Good. You should be."

"Oh?"

"You should always-"

Effortlessly, he flicked the straps of her bra down in one wipe each, and gently bit into her shoulder. He took a second to indulge in the pumpkin spice kneaded into her smooth skin. "-be on your guard."

"I will keep- that in mind."

Rayn felt him follow her sternum with an open mouth, her shoulders shuddering inward as he teetered along the edges of her loose and lacey bra, and licked over her scar without hesitation. When his large hands dominated her thighs with a squeeze the exact moment he'd taken a nipple into his sweltering mouth, she bit down on her bottom lip - hard.

Yes!

Heavens to Mar, it hurt like a bitch, but she would be damned to have sung over something so small.

Fine. She'd admit it. It'd been a while. Her last sexual relationship was about two years prior and she was not one for wasting time with lovers she was not going to keep. Rayn was too private of a woman for that and it took much to break her down. Much that Razer had, to her astonishment, pulled off somehow and was now making her knees wobble.

His fingers were thick, pronounced, and she swore that she could identify each callused pad of every phalange as they stepped down the vertebrae along her spine. When she closed her eyes, she imagined those very same fingers on the steering wheel of his Havoc, the precision they had with every Turbo Dash and Power Slide. The way his knuckles must've whitened each time he pulled the lever for a well earned Super-Nova.

With every inch down her back, her body rattled. He reconnected with her lips and swung them towards the mattress. At first, she could taste the smoke on his tongue, but the aftertaste was sweet, evidence that he must've taken advantage of the table mints at the restaurant.

Plotting her between the piles of pillows she'd been eyeing earlier, he trapped her wrists beneath those very same authoritative fingers. There was a slight adrenaline rush that threatened to cast her heart against her ribcage. She was not fond of feeling trapped, especially by a man that, she should keep reminding herself, is her enemy.

As if proving that he really did have a knack for reading her thoughts, he chided, "Relax, Rayn."

"Sure. Shall I panic when you reveal that these fluffy pillows hide knives?"

He relented, rising to motion the said pillows. She wanted to feel his chest under her palms again. She liked the way his muscles eased when she ruffled the small patch of hair over his heart.

"My weapons are not in my pillows," he reassured, "They're behind the headboard. At least one of them is."

"Just sterling."

Growing tiresome of her hesitation and his lust to the point of aching, he released a wrist to slide down to her knee where he hoisted her leg over him. He noticed the jagged, violet nail polish on her toes, from a woman either too lazy to keep up with pedicures, or too busy. Razer was happy to find that she was not as much as a perfectionist as she made herself out to be.

Against the arches of her feet, were oddly crosshatched scars almost invisible to the naked eye. He could not imagine a source for them unless she had a past hobby of skating with cheese graters. Even so, these small imperfections failed to take away from her overall appeal.

With one firm thrust against her, Rayn's body involuntarily rounded at the feel of his bulge against the sensitive cleft that led into her. Her teeth chattered as if the cold was a threat rather than the intensifying arousal flickering across her pelvis and between her thighs.

He whispered, "I promise not to kill you tonight as long as you return the favor."

Rayn laughed. Adversary or not, she had to give it to him. He was one hell of a manipulator, a bit dishy at that!

"I feel like all we ever do is compromise."

"If we can co-exist, then so be it."

"For now," she reminded.

"For now," he repeated, his fingers finding their way down her navel and testing the embroidery on her panties.

Unable to hold back, it was all or nothing, and Rayn catapulted back into sitting position. Meeting one another with open mouths and determined hands, his singlet had been cast off and his belt buckle fumbled with. Her dragging nails met uneven skin over the numerous lacerations on his back and in her mind; She could almost imagine where these individual shapes met the ink, the brand of Mizo. As soon as he was down to his briefs, he yanked her by the thighs, and covered her mound with his palm as he let his professional fingers tend to her through her underwear. When she cried out from the burn of the sheets against the bruising of her back, he sucked at her bottom lip apologetically.

"Sorry."

"That bruise is your fault, you know?"

"Mmm, allow me to make it up to you."

The Capo could tell already by the redness in her face, with her pert nipples exposed and the way her legs tried to knot that she was plenty wet.

"Not yet," he decided to himself, "Not until she needs it."

The woman could feel his middle fingers settle, digging into the nooks and crannies that shielded her entrance and that all too responsive nub of nerves. Her body snapping rigid, the Crime Lord was left with flailing hands before she took desperate hold of his shoulders with a whimper.

"Forgive me yet?"

Another sharp pang of bliss blew through her and she summoned the strength to do what she did best, to flaunt that trait of hers that served as a reminder as to why he was taking her to bed in the first place.

Defiance.

"N- No. You'll have to try harder than that to earn my forgiveness, Nancy boy."

He'd made her retract that statement.

When his fingers tore past the lace and pushed into her, Rayn squealed, her heels kicking as her body, on instinct, recoiled. Razer held her fast by the waist as he continued to push into her, wagging against her walls until he found the right chords to make music. Every nerve from the shells of her ears down to her toes ignited, sending sparks of electricity through her with every twist and beckon that his two digits made inside her.

"Good girl," he spread over her hair as he watched her writhe within his control.

Convinced that Rayn Krew was nothing more than an elated Croca-Pup mid-tummy rub, Razer had his guard down. So when she'd forced past him to reach into his briefs for a handful, the Champion growled. If he was angry, he didn't get the chance to dwell once she'd gotten the right hold of him.

He was hot in her hand, thick enough that her fingertips barely met her thumb and just once, she squeezed towards him. A groan sounded in Razer's throat and before she could relish in pride of any sort, the lieutenant pushed his fingers further into her.

His two digits inside her more relentless, increased the blissful knots that were twining between her legs, and in mere seconds, the girl was holding onto him for dear life. Her tight grip on his length added more fervor to his pumping. With every purr he drew from her, arrived a burst of force as she squeezed his swollen member, blood reddening their faces.

He hadn't realized that he'd bit her too hard until she pinched a roll of his stomach. "Razer," she gasped, "Is this how you treat your Havoc? I'm disappointed."

When he retreated from her body, and all the while she had done nothing more than whine about how rough he was being, he caught when her body followed, as if chasing the fingers that had abandoned it too soon.

"Your body language reveals more truth than your words."

He laid her down in front and stood up from the bed, dragging his driver's fingers from her thigh to her ankle affectionately before he let go. Their chests heaved as they recovered, and as he thumbed at the waistline of his briefs, he ordered her, "Take those off."

"Are you giving me orders, Mizo loyalist?"

Once again, her body betrayed as she wiggled from her underwear and bra. Watching her breasts spill, he fed them into his palms once again. Giving each an appreciative suck, in which she responded with slothful sighs, he gestured elsewhere. After the lieutenant reached and returned from his nightstand with a condom, he gathered his rival back into his lap. This time, Razer chose not to beat around the bush.

"Yes, Krew. Do what I say and you won't regret it."

He danced her over his hard erection, keeping her from sitting and not permitting the satisfaction of his taut body against hers.

"Razer," she warned. He could hear the anger in her tone. The spoiled Krew Heiress was only full of sugar when she got what she wanted. A discontented Rayn made for an unhappy Crime Lord, and she seemed the type to unleash her wrath on the world because of it.

The racer beamed in the face of her tantrum and delved into her mouth. His tongue was paced and deliberate, almost as if he could count each tooth and identify every ridge. She could smell her own perfume rise as she sweat, mixing in with the masculinity of woods, pines and what can only be described as the odor of a man. With every nibble she pronounced on his bottom lip, came a burst of testosterone as he squeezed the meat of her thighs and shifted his throbbing groin against her.

Only an inch to breath between their faces, he made a prediction, "I will have you begging for me throughout the night, but right now, I'd say we'd do fine in getting straight to the point?"

Bearing her canines, she countered, "Begging? Hah! You won't find any beggar's habits in me anytime soon. And yes," Rayn scratched at his chest to find the desired patch of hair she wanted when he'd trapped her wrists. "Get to the point-"

When the blunt tip of his erection had lightly buttoned against her entrance, Rayn made the naïve assumption that she was prepared. When Razer had her surround his girth in one fluid pull, she was shown otherwise. Despite how cheeky she was all evening, she was lost for words when he'd given her exactly what she wanted. Razer cradled the melting woman in his swathe of sweat and muscle. As he adjusted himself at the perfect angle to fill her, he was rewarded.

"Bloody Nora-"

When she moaned, she dug her nails into his chest hard enough to leave witness to it later. Past the point of no return, Razer started. The racer squeezed, shoved and emphasized his presence into her, and in moments, the woman responded in intervals of profanity and soft mews.

"Yes," she hissed, over and over until her voice almost cracked into sob. Licking along her hurried pulse, he mocked, "My, my, that does sound like pleading."

"More like approval."

Razer laughed, "Very repetitive approval."

"Maybe I like to repeat myself for clarity-"

After he interrupted her with a proper ramming that left her unwound and weighing back down to the mattress, he replied, "Or for emphasis on how much you want and need."

Her tug on his neck was stern and the pain made him laugh again. He was right. Rayn was not one to be made a fool of, which was why he enjoyed making her as foolish as he could.

And just when he thought he'd successfully put all that red in her cheeks from embarrassment, she somehow shifted them over. When she settled on top of him, it seemed it was more than she expected, and rather than appearing the victor, Rayn broke back almost violently due to the level of unrestricted penetration.

Razer arched up, straightened his legs and offered himself wholly. His partner had sprung back so far he could no longer see her face as she hung from his forearms. He could feel her long, beautiful hair warm his thighs. After a few moments, she returned to face him breathless and flushed. She retaliated with a weak punch on his torso for what she was blatantly not that angry about. Her wail had echoed throughout the loft, and had her heavies been close enough, they would have heard it outside.

"Ride me, Krew. Let's see if your driving skills go beyond the Circuits."

Spiteful, the woman lifted herself and dropped, the slap of skin chorusing with his grunt. The haughty racer stumbled with his banter and opted for action instead. He liked the way his thumbs caught her ribs, the rims of her swollen breasts open for an optional caress as he encouraged her over him.

Claiming his lips into her satisfied smile, she concluded, "This is one race you will not win."


-x-x-x-x-x-


As they were about to emerge from the fog in his master bathroom, Razer changed course once he found that their skin was all the more sensitive following a hot soak. After a few minutes of storytelling, in which the Crime Lord had convinced him into sharing a tale or two behind the many wounds that branded his body, the lieutenant was finding it difficult to divert his eyes from the scar across her chest.

"Aww, is story time over?"

"Yes. For now."

As if trying to shoo away the temptation of asking, the man clenched his eyes, hoisted her from the tub by an arm and sucked her breast in his mouth. The heat of his tongue was a stark contrast to the air that chilled her skin once she had emerged from the bath's comfort.

"W-wait! I could slip!"

His hum rumbled against her chest, and once again, she felt something stir at her. A sharp pang of desire shot from her breasts, straight down between her legs, and making her ache for him. Nothing, but needles remaining in her fingers, she gasped, allowing him access to her.

"Maybe that was my plan all along. Just think about it-"

Another mouthful of the opposite breast and she sighed into him.

"-Longtime archenemies make love and the Mizo Family attains victory due to an unfortunate, but suspiciously, convenient slip, into the hot tub."

He could feel the disruption of smooth skin beneath his tongue as he followed the mysterious scar across her sternum. Judging from the weight and appearance of the line, it must have been fairly old, and being one who has dealt with blades for many years, he knew that the wound was definitely a product of one.

But the Champion knew better than to ask a woman questions she would never answer. Never ask a woman her age after thirty, never divulge on her thoughts on combat racing, never discuss Underground politics and most of all- never ask a lady about the details behind an imperfection. Not that the scar in Krew's case would be considered one.

Truthfully, the scar combined with the slight callus over the wedges between her forefingers and thumbs, and the chipped nail polish on her toes, preached of a woman who spent her current days and nights buried in work, practicing at the shoot out ranges, and had all the baggage of one who lived the streets. It just made the catch all the more worthwhile.

"Making love, huh? I half expected you to quote a classical poet after that line."

"Please, Rayn, don't make me sick."

Giggling against his cheek, she teased, "But the books on your desk proclaim that you're such an avid reader. Are they just for decoration?"

He licked her neck hard enough to get past the masculine scent of soap he used to taste the sweet layer beneath. Even if she smelled like him, wore his oversized shirt, and if she had five times the scars in addition to the most pronounced on her chest, he would still want her.

The sex was riveting. Before this night, Razer would have laughed if someone had even suggested that he converse during sex. People do not chit chat while they fucked. Fucking is just that - to fuck and get it over with. Instructions were not needed.

Rayn Krew, however, he immensely enjoyed toying with her and it produced wondrous results. She put on her prudish front and whenever he broke it, he perked his ears so that he could relish in her sighs and moaning. It was when he finally managed to silence her that he felt most rewarded, although her backtalk, at times, was just as gratifying.

"I presume you prefer your pillow talk with dirt then, Miss Krew?"

"Not at all. I'm still on the winning side of this power struggle and therefore, you should treat me like a lady-"

His fingers had crawled down past her navel to smooth inside and wag against her walls. When she toppled, the racer clumsily managed to keep them from falling and cracking their skulls. This was definitely not the way he wanted to make headlines - their corpses found in a hot tub, stark naked with the enemy he was contracted to kill by his late boss.

She managed to stutter, "Heh, so your slip and fall- plan has been foiled- poet."

The Champion swung her over to a large set of mirrors, her hands squeaking, as they clawed their streaks across in an effort to find some stable grounding. Eager to make the woman retract her poet's impression of him, he trapped her between the counter and himself, fondling the thickening skin between her fleshy thighs.

"Even a lady likes to get fucked, Rayn." She flinched at his touch, trying to wriggle free, but his hands kept her blissfully weakened.

The feline bit his chin. "Is that so?"

"Hmm, you want me to taste it?"

"Wha-"

"Ihre der Kitzler-" he mumbled, knowing she wouldn't understand until he had her bend over the sink and he dropped to a knee. Before she knew what hit her, the criminal had parted her and taken her into his mouth, lapping at her freshly bathed skin now salting with her arousal. She was so wet, that she could hear him sucking and lapping at her. Every time he stopped to pass the velvet of his tongue in a vertical sweep, she audibly groaned into him, offering herself without restraint.

Rayn Krew was helpless above him, her hands clawing the countertop only to find nothing to hang onto, aside from the toiletries and hand towels. He sucked at her persistently, not giving her a chance to identify right from left before he'd playfully bite her ass cheek before returning to please her. His mouth busy at work, Rayn had used every ounce of strength to force him away as she swiveled to face him.

"T- This- way."

She blushed at the smirk he gave when she re-invited him and the Crime Lord gave in contently when he licked her from the front. Carrying that small bundle of nerves that would undo her against the tip of his tongue before he took as much of her into his closed mouth as he could, the strain was almost unbearable for the woman who could hardly stand at this point. Sealed to her, she could feel his quickened flicking before he slowed just barely for a drawn out suck, a powerful inhale that not only drew her aching sex in, but sapped her will.

At first she looked to the ceiling, only to realize that watching the infamous and usually haughty Capo, at his knees, was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Through heavy eyes, she caught sight of him, shamelessly gorging at her until she was raised to tippy-toes, practically sitting over his face.

"R-Razer-"

His attempt to wordlessly answer would vibrate against her, sending the tremor to shake her every bone and resulting in her whining. She rode with the rhythm of his rigorous lapping, calling his name and salvaging the pride she must have threatened with her poet remarks.

She felt herself climbing, her fingers clutching his disheveled hair as she screamed voiceless. Knots were forming from the pit of her stomach to her thighs, and the more fervor her companion put into eating her out, the least she could take.

Just when she thought that she would either collapse or explode, her voice returned in ragged syllables when she spasmed over him, the counter saving them both from losing their balance. Razer continued that wondrous inhale of his, sucking her in as she soared and rattled.

"God, yes-"

Her orgasm had long broken and spilled into his mouth, and now the pair waited as Rayn dismounted from cloud nine. Without remorse, the Champion kissed her, her musk, salting his lips. After he was assured that she had indeed, returned from the divine, regardless of being raw and unwound, the Champion took advantage of her weakened stance to tap behind her knees.

"Watching you from that angle was quite the view, Rayn," he panted against her.

"I rather enjoyed it too."

When she wilted, she knew she had to return the favor. Gathering her senses, she snatched him up and took a mouthful. Razer retreated his gaze to the ceiling, only the hollow beneath his jaw visible to the woman giving him head below.

Rayn inwardly made the decision, "I'll be fixing that."

Regardless of their age difference, it was evident that the Heiress knew what a grown man wanted. As he thickened in her hold, she wrung at him, her free hand slipping above his knee to cup what had been left idle. She almost felt him rise from the tile, but he stood his ground. As if sensing the rebellion in her action, Razer relented, and faced her head on with half-lidded eyes.

The racer observed the way her mouth popped every time she released from him, and how she trailed the veins beneath his swollen member before she received him whole again. He swept her wet bangs from her face - it was the least he could do to keep from bucking his hips into her.

And while Rayn Krew was not one to leave debts unpaid and was delighted at the facial expressions she was earning from the hard to read Convict, her simmering lust was getting the best of her. Within just a few moments, she looked up to him, and he instantly swooped her back to her feet, pinning her to the mirrors again, her back flush to his chest.

"Tell me what you want."

She could see his erection between her legs, the fog clearing from the mirrors and revealing all that she had evaded amidst their fling. She was now indirectly face-to-face, with their reflection. She was having sex, and great sex at that - despite the minor ache in her ankle due to the slip and the burn on her back from the sheets - sex with a man in the single digits of Kras City's most wanted list! And the Crime Lord knew that no matter how heavenly this night was, once the sun came up, if the Champion had found an opening to kill her, he would. And she would do the same.

Speaking of that, why had he kept her alive for this long? Before she could ponder about what kind of plotting was at work in the man's mind, she was whisked back to their scene in the bathroom, his large hands searing her waist.

"Ladies don't swear, but I believe that a Crime Lord is allowed. Tell me, Rayn, which are you?"

Jerking back aggressively, she found his length under her and squeezed. "Either, when I want to be, both, when convenient. Now fuck me, Razer."

"With pleasure," he growled, escaping her grasp and penetrating her from behind. She lashed back with a curse, her slap on the counter catching his fingers and they hissed in unison, soothing the minor sting by focusing on the growing ecstasy between them.

"I want you to remember this image," he gestured towards the mirror, "Of your face as I fuck you from behind and you love every second of it. Next time you get high on your power trip, you should recall this easily."

"Hah- as if this has any effect on-"

Her disapproval was left unheard. Rather than hard and fast, the racer knew just how to travel this road, and made sure he was at the proper speed to emphasize every dive he made. Rayn Krew saw herself in a daze, on the receiving end of the most satisfying fuck she'd had in years, and inwardly proud that the man doing it to her was none other than the man she had watched on live television, breaking world records while she was in high school. In comparison to the numerous clippings she had of him though, she secretly accepted that the real thing was best. A Razer without sarcasm wasn't much fun, now was it?

"Harder," she whispered, regretting it instantly, not because it wasn't what she wanted, but because her voiced desire meant that she was pleading, proving his earlier prophecies to be true.

Bloody fool. You'll get yours in the morning, on the trip back to your beloved Butcheree.

At her command, managing a snarky smile, no doubt, he complied.

"You like my dick in you, Rayn?"

"You know- I can arrange to put you- on death row?"

She could sense the chuckle when his stomach hiccupped on her back. Rayn leaned forward, raising herself to him as high as she possibly could and he held her fast, pumping with precision and responding to her muted cries.

"You look like- you're feeling good. Are my eyes deceiving me?"

She let him slide with that one, opting to open herself up to him and enjoy his presence filling her. When a stray hand of hers clawed at his leg for purpose, he tied their fingers together and led their hands to swarm her breast. She could see his face in her hair, and hear him grunting in her ear.

"Rayn-"

Her legs were beginning to give out, and his arousal, at its height. As he felt himself near his climax, he surprised her when he lifted one of her legs.

"R-Razer!" She scolded and this time, she heard the laugh.

"Just a bit- more," he pled his case with the hard thrusts that followed each syllable and the woman was swayed. Leaning over the sink for support, her eyes were clenched so firmly, that there was color visible behind her lids.

Gaping up at the mirror, his hair obstructed any clear view from those enigmatic viridian eyes. Admiring his flexed biceps, the very same that she noted during their transmission change, she was appreciative of the focus he put in angling into her. Every time he sunk into her, she felt herself slip from reality right before she was reeled in again with his departure. When his determined gaze faltered into bitten lips, Rayn knew that he was about to finish.

Her entire body shook with his as they concluded their dirty conversation accompanied by equally dirty action. Together they withered and remained fused to one another until they could gather their wits. When he separated from her, Rayn could barely stand. The leg she'd been putting her weight on had gone numb, courtesy of a last minute position change from her partner.

The Heiress pouted when she noted the snickering he hid behind his hand. "What's so funny? Once again, this is your fault."

"All right, all right, Princess. Relax," he soothed when he found the strength to lift and wrap her around his waist. "Hang on."

"Where are we going now?"

"Quick shower, of course. Then a snack?"

"Good. I'm famished."

"I bet you are," he mocked with a kiss that she met halfway.

He carried her into the shower stall and Rayn prodded, "I hope you have something sugary to eat."

"For you, Heiress? Of course."

"Hmm, I am going to die soon, aren't I? You're being way too hospitable."

The racer laughed out loud. "Did I not already say this? Why would I want to get rid of something as lovely as you?"

"Heh."

"And besides, what kind of celebrity would I be if I didn't know how to entertain my guests?"

The woman tried to restrain her girlish laughter, but Razer successfully got it out with a nibble to her neck.

"Are you not satisfied, Miss Krew?"

The Champion slid the door closed behind them, watching as Rayn reached for his shampoo. She'd already known where it was from before the soak. If he wasn't careful with how much he revealed, he knew that his agenda was in danger of being compromised - not that he was worried. So far, it seemed they were both doing a fine job at being vague and secretive, considering their generous helpings to each other throughout the night, of course.

"Very satisfied. It's almost a pity that I have to lock you up."

"Having a change of heart?"

"No. You are far too dangerous to let roam free."

Razer took the shampoo from her when she was done lathering, to get to his own tussled hair that was now framing his face in blackened strands.

There was no comeback for that comment of hers. After all, she was right...

-x-x-x-x-x-

Ihre der Kitzler: German for The Clitoris... I think? (shrugs)