Silvertip Mountain Mind of Stone, Heart of Glass

Her eyes remained shut as he worked his way to her throat, but they flew open when she felt his teeth rest against the skin there. He didn't apply much pressure, but the move felt dominant. Her initial reaction was irritation, but she also decided she kind of liked it, which pissed her off. Before she could think much more about it, though, he was making his way up her neck, and she was thoroughly distracted again. 

As he made his way to her nose, she met his gaze, her own glazed over. But then he stopped and pulled back, giving her that irritating grin that she really only liked when he wasn't driving her crazy. How could she be all but a melted puddle on the ground while he was talking about eating and taking the carcass back to her pack like he hadn't just sensually cleaned the blood from her fur. Yet his voice relayed some of the heat she felt on every inch of her body—just enough to keep her hooked without actually giving her what she wanted. It was so frustrating. 

For a few moments, she just stared at him, a frown twisting her previously relaxed expression. But she decided she didn't actually want him to know the full effect he had on her; it plucked at her pride in a big way. So just as quickly as he had shifted gears, she pretended to do so as well. The frown softened and gave way to a playful raise of an eyebrow. She shrugged. Let's eat, and then we can take it back to the forest, she told him. And then she brushed past him and got to work on the creature's eviscerated abdomen.