MALCOLM
"If you're a virgin, then explain how you got Rylan."
I watch the color bleach from her face. She does that thing where she opens her mouth and closes it countless times. Then she settles on a curt, "I don't have to explain anything to you."
Oh?
I abandon the sink, drawing closer to where she's perched on a stool. I notice how her robe parts to reveal creamy flesh. My canines throb with the consuming urge to mark her; it worsens when I scent the lingering musk of her orgasm. I want it on my tongue.
Patience, I tell myself. There is enough time for that.
I lean over the table. While she doesn't pull away, I notice the flush spreading around her cheeks. My little minx is just as attracted to me as I am to her.
"You're curious about me," I say. Her guard lowers and I catch the look of contemplation on her face. "So let's make a trade. Answer my questions, and I will answer yours."