Even as Feng's distant, furious cursing echoed across the soulscape like a string of firecrackers in a thunderstorm, Quinlan's attention was completely… elsewhere.
Serika hadn't moved from his arms. If anything, she'd drawn closer.
Her breath was hot on his lips. Her body, tight and battle-warmed, pressed against his own with full, unconcealed hunger.
Their mouths met again.
Not softly. Not cautiously. But in starving hunger.
There was nothing restrained about it now. This kiss was raw, deep, and heady like a little flicker of flame finally given permission to burn, becoming an all-consuming inferno. Her fingers clawed into his hair, nails grazing his scalp. His hands gripped her waist, then slid boldly back down to her buttcheeks, his fingers kneading, massaging.
She let him without mounting a single ounce of resistance.
More than that, she welcomed it on instinct, even if her mind didn't really understand what she was doing.
