(--)
The noises she made provoked his desire, and the burning heat of this was quick to overwhelm the fury. As much as he wanted to tear her apart, he wanted to fuck her more -- or first, or at the same time. Guy did not know which, and he hardly had the brainpower to consider even when not blood and lust maddened. All he was aware of was a sudden lack of struggle, a stillness that perhaps signaled his victory. Scrabbling and struggling with all the fumbling expertise of a teenager, Guy dropped the lower half of his body atop her, arching his head and shoulders back so he might look on her face.
He pressed himself against her, nudging and squirming always. His knee drove between her legs and sought to bring them apart. Her words brought him to attention, but their sharpness and futility brought his desire to an exquisitely maddening, needling point at the base of his spine. He felt as though he was on fire, and though perhaps it was his own blood-loss, he saw quite clearly the dancing angels lingering in her eyes. Halos and wings both afire, they whirled and danced and seemed to be singing and screaming their agony, though perhaps that was simply the pound of his own heart in his ears. Now that heartbeat's tune matched the twitch of his seeking hips as he probed forward. Guy was lifting and positioning with the hand on her side, the claws sank a deeper hold in her flesh.
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