The Floodlands I'm doing fine, trying to derail my one track mind

An involuntary gasp left her throat, fluttering out from between her lips, followed by a noise somewhere between a grumble and a whine. She had not anticipated such a gesture; the power behind his grasp, so gentle yet with force that should perhaps worry her. She did not pull away, though the whites of her eyes flashed as they widened, the wag of her tail slowing to a stop as it hung above her haunches. 
Thunk, thunk, thunk. She was sure he could feel the pounding of her pulse. 
Thunk, thunk, thunk. 
Alright, she swallows. you got me there. That burning blood red gaze felt as if it may begin to consume her, buttering her up and preparing to cut into her with fork and knife. 
I'm looking for excitement. I want someone who's not fuckin' boring, in a bold move, her nose touches against his, pink tongue darting out and tasting the air, yet not daring to touch him. She could almost taste the blood on his breath. I'm not lookin' for a husband, but I'm no object either. Her gaze hardens. All games must come to an end. you interested in a deal, Colt?