The timbre of his voice is rough and low. “You smell like you just came.” I stare back, speechless at his directness. I did just come. “And I need to eat you out.” He needs to. “Okay?” “It’s a Were thing,” he says, almost apologetic. I nod, and when he bends to nip at my hipbone, I close my eyes and welcome it: the stretch of my thighs as they are spread out, the hitch of his breath as he looks and looks and looks some
Of only there were Inter Species Were Dating app.
