Lee's breath catches. Bracing herself with one hand behind her, she arches up into his mouth and slides her other hand into his hair.

"Oh -- fuck."

Her breath gets deeper as he works her over; she groans when he does something she particularly likes, when his lips or teeth or tongue hit her just right.

He wants her squirming, and with a little patience, he'll get what he wants. It's a strange kind of alchemy -- the pent-up stress of daily life in the Narrows turning into arousal and need.