Blade emptied his own glass in five deliberate swallows and set it down on the arm of the couch. It was good brandy; he had to admit that. Then his arms rose again, and reached out for Elizabeth.

She was in them before he had them fully raised. A moment later her lips were clinging to his. Those lips were wide open, but there was no warmth or wetness on them or in them. For a moment the sudden shock of those lips against his almost killed Blade's desire. Then Elizabeth's hands came up and locked around the back of his neck. They drew his head forward and down, played in his chair, crept down under his collar. One hand moved away from his neck and around to his throat. Slim but nimble fingers undid the buttons of his shirt from the top down. Then they roamed over the muscle-layered chest and flat stomach, for Blade wore no undershirt.

If Elizabeth was doing this against her inclinations, she was not letting that stand in the way of doing it well. Blade felt his breath beginning to come fast, and felt a familiar warm ache swelling in his groin. He knew that if he looked down there would be another and more visible swelling in the front of his dark blue pants.

Elizabeth did look down. The hand that had been stroking Blade's chest moved down to where her eyes were aimed. The fingers stroked momentarily in this new place, then closed on Blade's zipper. A sharp metallic zzzzt, and the same fingers were reaching in to close around Blade's swollen member.

They were just as skilled there as they had been higher up. In fact, they were almost unbearable when they got inside Blade's shorts and began playing with his bare flesh. He had to bite back a gasp. Then he managed to grate out: