[ damn right. jinx curls her hand, rubbing soothing circles at lottie’s hip when she hitches forward. patronising, maybe, like the way she coos, pleased and galled to be wanted by one left unsatisfied by another hunter. she should have caught this one first, with her soft breaths and twitching thighs. ]

All mine? [ she skims her knuckles over lottie’s slit, exhaling when they come away wet. a tease that doesn’t go anywhere, not yet, ‘cause jinx needs more from her first. satisfied that her quarry won’t run, she lifts both hands to her throat and buckles the collar around it, tightening it to a snug fit. one finger slips under the dark leather, lidded eyes watching her nail prick under lottie’s jaw. the sight of it takes the edge off, soothing whatever possessive instinct the sight of another’s bite sent reeling. ]

Lucky me. [ she means it, too, mouth quirking and eyes brightening. ] Just tell me if it hurts. Well, more than you like, anyway.

[ jinx wants to claim and protect what’s hers, not break it. she clips the leash and loops the leather once, twice around her wrist to shorten it. ]

Wouldn’t wanna spoil my spoils. [ hands sliding back down, inspecting lottie’s body like she really is all jinx wanted, breasts that fill her tiny hands, pretty nipples peaked, a flat stomach that speaks of athleticism or hunger (both of which she understands), hipbones defined by much the same. ever curious, jinx wants to ask about it all. the other bite, the scars, the obvious need — but that can come later.

she’s already sinking to her knees, after all, palms pushing at lottie’s thighs to hold them wider, so that she can get a better look at said spoils. ] Or maybe I do.

[ her gaze tilts upward, sharp and expectant. waiting for an answer to a question she needn’t ask: is that what lottie wants? how badly? ]