“Lydia moves into a straddling position, her legs either side of Dalle’s, her mouth never leaving Dalle’s wrist.
The hit courses into Lydia’s veins, the reward greater for having resisted for so long as if she were finally having an orgasm after hours of foreplay. Fireworks sparkle and explode inside her head and suddenly the room is falling away, tumbling off into a purple-darkness. There’s a tremendous rushing sound, like a jet engine. Warmth floods through her.
Dalle’s arm falls away, blood spilling from Lydia’s lips and crashing to the floor, crystalline. It shatters there. Her head swims. She leans in and kisses Dalle, blood still smearing her lips, pressing it into the other woman, her tongue dipping into Dalle’s mouth, then her neck. Her skin is wet, sweaty, sticky. Tastes like apple sauce. She lets herself roll across Dalle’s torso, tugging at her t-shirt, pushing it away to expose more flesh, blending into Dalle, peering through the woman’s pale skin at her heart beating, beating, beating…”