He could smell the scent of her flesh and fur, a gentle, pleasant, clean musk that was feline and wild and somehow undeniably female. A fresh, earthy ...one, subtle and warming, the smell of life and growing things. The distinct scent of her hair, like midnight lilies. The lingering copper of his own blood lingering on her hands. And the salt of her tears, dried on her cheeks, like fresh droplets from the ocean. The smell of her melded with the sound of her voice. The sweet melody of her words,. She simply leaned against me with her head on my shoulder.“I think you need to relax,” I told her. I moved backwards on the bed until I was comfortably in the center of it and pulled Marilyn along with me. I lay down and she lay down on top of me. I reached up and cupped her face in my hands and kissed her softly. She slipped her tongue between my lips and made a gentle moaning sound as I rubbed my hands across her back. She had a thin bra under the tank top, and as she squirmed around on top. More

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