Silver Creek [m] Ain't nowhere left for the good to go

He pursued her, but only far enough for his teeth to catch delicately at the base of her spine. A lingering kiss followed to smooth the fur there, and Winterbourne reluctantly allowed her to slip away from him. He'd landed himself a woman filled to the brim with playful energy, it seemed, and while he couldn't mirror it, he wouldn't complain at all.

If it pleases you, it'll please me, It came out a bit more suggestive than he'd meant. Winterbourne grinned sheepishly. Go on, then. Dance.