Naaghai Lowlands a pretty girl with bouffont hair

She begins circling him like a predator sizing up prey. He’s into it. He stands still save for his head, which turns to follow her as she assesses him. Does he flex? No. Does he pose a little? Maybe. He might be young—too young to be properly virile—but Bushtit knows his way around a woman by now. He wants Journey to understand that, preferably through a demonstration.

Kitty? he echoes, eyes darkling.

He hasn’t heard that one before, though he gets the gist well enough. His blood heats, realizing she’s now using double entendres. Maybe they’re getting somewhere, despite all her jokes about his age. Bushtit gives her his most charming grin.

Why would I be afraid of it? he croons, smoldering gaze darting to her hindquarters before flicking back to her face. Does it have teeth?