"...Then restrain your instincts," she said, one full beat too late. "Or you'll be supplying the woman you love with your sad little pills for eternity."
Black Fang rode Quinlan on the floor of the wrecked dawn dojo, his wrists pinned to the boards on either side of his head, and within a few heartbeats it became clear that she had brought a doctrine.
She fought sex the way she fought everything, as a discipline to be conquered, and she had spent one entire night gathering intelligence from a windowsill.
The opening sequence arrived exactly as drilled: a measured roll of the hips copied beat for beat from her sister's counter-tempo, an angle she had watched him enjoy earlier in the night and now reproduced from memory with a genius combatant's precision.
It worked for four beats.
"...Amazing," said Quinlan, with sincerity.
Being inside this precious woman was simply otherworldly.
