Over the phone without his body posture to go by, or his face, and with him shielding like a son of a bitch, I couldn't tell if he were truly calm, or not. This isn't about romance, it's about food, I said. Snap away, he said, in a voice that was deeper, more real than his usual. But it wasn't his heartbeat that he wanted inside me.
I remember coming home, and Richard had used his key to get in to cook me dinner without asking, and I hated it. I dragged my keys back out. I frowned harder. Even under spotted fur and yellow kitty-cat eyes, the hunger showed through.
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