Swiftcurrent Creek seguir [m]

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Her words returned to him—her tongue foreign and yet the touch of her with a promise he understood well. He couldn’t get close enough to her—she was a treasure to be ravished, and he would do so, as many times as she would let him. “Need you,” he rasped, and from there he would position her roughly, exploring her intimately and to the edge of their dance, only to stop before the implosion of it all—allowing it to fade before he would begin another onslaught. All of it to forget for the moment, and to hear his name sing from her lips.

His name. Only his name.