And oh, I was tempted. I flushed with heat, hungry to be handled as roughly as I deserved. To have something of you that would linger after your death, even if it were only teethmarks. But if I touched you, and found only flesh—if I tasted you, and found only the ordinary bittersweetness of a wet cunt—then you would no longer be a legend to me, but only yourself. I could kill a legend; I didn’t know if I could kill you.
