He reached a finger beneath a chin, where a bead of sweat traveled, and drew his fingertip up her throat. She slapped his hand away. He froze. His eyes flared. A warning. She doubted anyone ever slapped him. And lived very long thereafter. She didn’t regret it. Her hand stung. It was worth death to her in that moment to slap him. And then she watched as he leisurely touched his fingertip to his tongue and sucked her sweat from it.
· Flag
Gloria
