Jean-Claude could push desire through me as if his kiss were a finger drawn across my body, down my very nerves so that he touched things that no hand or finger could ever caress. He took his free hand, because the other was still wrapped around his brother's hand. He didn't argue, he just left. It was real.
I looked at him and knew my face said clearly, I didn't believe him. Really noticed it. He licked his bloody lips, and the only thought I had from him was good. Richard screamed, and stood up, dumping me to the floor.
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