Isla
"Only fair," Isla agrees, surrendering the parasol to Locke's waiting hands as he tilts his head and leans in. Raising her eyebrows, there's a playful glimmer of mischief in her pebble blues, and she considers him a moment. "I feel very privileged," she decides eventually. "Careful, though, or it might become a habit." Is it an invitation or a genuine warning? That's for Locke to worry about - Isla is busy.
Salt isn't something she can really taste against his skin, but as she steps forward, her lips brushing against his throat, she swears she can feel his pulse humming along her tongue. Her fangs slip into his veins in a gesture that's more practiced now than it ever has been, and it's with a barely stifled moan that Isla's hands come up to rest against Locke's chest. Blood and ecstasy whipcrack through her, tensing muscles and making her toes curl into the sand below, and by the time Isla draws back, she's breathless despite it not being needed.
"As quests go, that's not a bad one," she remarks.
Salt isn't something she can really taste against his skin, but as she steps forward, her lips brushing against his throat, she swears she can feel his pulse humming along her tongue. Her fangs slip into his veins in a gesture that's more practiced now than it ever has been, and it's with a barely stifled moan that Isla's hands come up to rest against Locke's chest. Blood and ecstasy whipcrack through her, tensing muscles and making her toes curl into the sand below, and by the time Isla draws back, she's breathless despite it not being needed.
"As quests go, that's not a bad one," she remarks.
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard
When you hit me, hit me hard
