I gently brushed my lips against hers. She started, stiffened. Coldi didn’t kiss. I drew back to give my feeder time to do its work, to tell her what I felt, let her feel what she was supposed to feel.
It didn’t take long before she closed her eyes, breathing out in a soft blissful sigh. I pressed closer, blood roaring in my ears, pushed her lips apart, my tongue meeting hers, hot and feverish.
She learned quickly; heavens, she responded; her breath blew a warm patch on my cheek. My hands slid down her naked shoulders, meeting her soft breasts. Fingertips trailed over my sweaty back. The feeder screamed ever louder, take me, take me. I hovered on the edge of that precipice.
No.
Panting, I pulled away.
“Anything wrong?”
Everything. “I can’t.”
She blinked once, twice. Another blatant
