He let go, and she whomped back onto the bed with a dispirited oof of escaping air. She sat there for a moment, paralyzed, a high pitched whine forming at the back of her throat and escaping her mouth like the first wail of a boiling kettle. Then she got a grip on herself, and glowered at him. "Can't ye. . .jes go t'an alley? Plenty doxies get shimmied up against alley walls." She would have given a demonstrative hip-thrust, but gods if it didn't just hurt too much.
"I tol' ye, three suns. Did ye hear me, or are ye too busy payin' heed t'yer cock?"
"I tol' ye, three suns. Did ye hear me, or are ye too busy payin' heed t'yer cock?"
