Can't be anything but Hyde's mess trickling onto the leather, defeating the purpose of warning the voyeur off. It's a deliciously perverse contrast to the softness of his lips, until his teeth make a sharp return to attention.
Paloma yelps quietly but submits, stretching the bitten, smarting expanse of her throat out for him to peruse. "But Henry, dinner? Later?" God she sounds intoxicated.
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Paloma yelps quietly but submits, stretching the bitten, smarting expanse of her throat out for him to peruse. "But Henry, dinner? Later?" God she sounds intoxicated.