Mimi enveloped him in her wings and kissed his tears away, working down
his cheeks to his neck, his Adam's apple.
He snuffled back a mouthful of mucus and salt and wailed, "I don't
know!"
She snugged her mouth up against his collarbone. "Krishna does," she
whispered into his skin. She tugged at the skin with her teeth. "What
about your family?"
He swallowed a couple of times, painfully aware of her lips and breath
on his skin, the enveloping coolth of her wings, and the smell in every
breath he took. He wanted to blow his nose, but he couldn't move without
breaking the spell, so he hoarked his sinuses back into his throat and
drank the oozing oyster of self-pity that slid down his throat.
"My family?"
"I don't have a family, but you do," she said. "Your family must know."
"They don't," he said.
"Maybe you haven't asked them properly. When are you leaving?"
"Today."
"Driving?"
"Got a rental car," he said.
"Room for one more?"
"Yes," he said.
"Then take me," she said.
"All right," he said. She raised her head and kissed him on the lips,
and he could taste the smell now, and the blood roared in his ears as
she straddled his lap, grinding her mons -- hot through the thin cotton
of her skirt -- against him. They slid down on the sofa and they groaned
into each others' mouths, his voice box resonating with hers.
Pages:
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275