And it did hurt--in the most wonderful, painful, beautiful, pleasurable way. He groaned--it was almost a growl. The warmth of her mouth and the thought that she had already taken him inside her (imagine this to be the first invasion of her body) and she had bitten him (which was only turnabout being fair play). She had bitten on this finger, on this hand, that had done such remarkable and horrible things.

He hoped it left a mark to linger for a few days. He would admire it at whiles, if it did, and remember this little encounter.

"You sharp, wicked thing." His other hand went up under her shirt. "Are you sure that was wise? You shouldn't put things like that in your mouth. There could be horrible diseases or poisons there. You don't know where it's been. Whatever I have might be catching."