Warm blood. My hands grabbed at his shirt, handfuls of cloth, as if I couldn't get close enough, or hold on hard enough. His lips touched mine, and the door vanished. Just us, Micah, just us.
In fact, it can be downright therapeutic for some people. He did it the only way he knew how, by forcing my legs apart with his hips, so I couldn't just go to my knees and lift him off. Jason spoke, and a trickle of blood trailed from his mouth, as he did it. I pressed my breasts against the warmth of his back, one arm up and over his head so I could touch his hair.
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