Grouse Thicket [m] fear the lioness, paint her face black and golden

Her frank command did not elicit any particular reaction. Towhee squinted, wondering if history was about to repeat itself after all. Her jaw clenched as she remembered his words of rejection. “I don’t want you.” Was this guy about to say the same damn thing?

His muzzle touched just behind her shoulder blade, then skimmed toward her hip. Towhee shivered deliciously, every errant thought fleeing her brain immediately. He didn’t speak, his mouth too busy teasing every inch of her back, sides and backside.

He drove her to the brink of madness before lustfully gathering her to him and unleashing the ardor of a Latin lover on her. Afterward, there was nothing to do but sink to the ground, catch her breath and aimlessly look around for her brains.

Again, she insisted exactly seven minutes hence.