It’s A Cat. Boy, You Couldn’t Slip

With A Gentle Pressure, Our Lips Met. His Hands Slipped More Firmly About Me, And I Held Myself Back, Not Afraid, But Wanting To Feel Everything Slowly As I Leaned In, Tasting The Wine On Him, Feeling The Warmth Of His Body Pressing Into Mine, Breathing In Our Scents That Were Mingling And Changing With The Warmth. My Hands Rose To Find His Hair, And I Relaxed Into Him As The Silky Strands Brushed Through My Fingers. I Wanted More, And I Leaned Into Him As Our Lips Moved Against Each Other.

Rachel, You Take Her,” My Mother Said, Clearly Uncomfortable. “she Might Like You.” “no. Mom, No!” I Protested, But It Was My Mother We Were Talking About, And It Was Either Take The Baby Or Have Her Hit The Floor.

Sure Am Glad I'm Not Royalty," I Muttered. "i Wouldn't Want To Have To Bump Uglies With Someone I Can't Stand. On A Regular Basis. And No One Else." "ow!" I Exclaimed, Trying To Yank My Fingers From Trent But Finding Them Caught. Then I Colored, Realizing What I'd Said. "oh… Sorry," I Stammered, Meaning It. "that Was Insensitive." Trent's Frown Turned Into A Sly Smirk. "bump Uglies?" He Said, Eyes On The Table Behind Me. "you Are A Font Of Gutter Slang, Rachel. We Must Do This Again.

She Was Only A Year Old, But Elves Grew Up Fast. Not Like Witches, Who Jenks Swore Were Not Able To Be On Their Own Until They Were Thirty. Ahem.

A Demon Was Asking Me What I Wanted. My Eyes Flicked To Al, And He Shrugged. “what Do You Want?” He Said Softly.