Her tone was condescending, her look pitying. He thought he had a choice? He thought she'd brought him all this way to be denied? Either he was quite a ballsy fellow, or quite a naive one. She could see March being drawn to both those sorts in all their varieties.
"Better start you off with this."
The knife. Right to the heart of the matter, that was her goal. Well. That was James March's design, more accurately. She grabbed it up and walked Chilton's way, slow and steady, the handle extended to him. The blade pointed toward her. Sharp against soft skin, soft skin against a sharp smile, her voice an encouraging purr more at home between silk sheets than this.
"This is the wild. Go ahead. You can do it. Take it."
If Chilton protested, he'd find that knife ever so helpfully shoved into his hands. Perhaps near his stomach. How could she know?
no subject
Her tone was condescending, her look pitying. He thought he had a choice? He thought she'd brought him all this way to be denied? Either he was quite a ballsy fellow, or quite a naive one. She could see March being drawn to both those sorts in all their varieties.
"Better start you off with this."
The knife. Right to the heart of the matter, that was her goal. Well. That was James March's design, more accurately. She grabbed it up and walked Chilton's way, slow and steady, the handle extended to him. The blade pointed toward her. Sharp against soft skin, soft skin against a sharp smile, her voice an encouraging purr more at home between silk sheets than this.
"This is the wild. Go ahead. You can do it. Take it."
If Chilton protested, he'd find that knife ever so helpfully shoved into his hands. Perhaps near his stomach. How could she know?