He nodded with his eyes at her repetition of his name. Apparently he heard no discrepancy in her version or chose to ignore it. He placed his hand back on her hip and scooted close to her, willing her to grip the shaft that stood sideways in his slacks. He gasped a little, too, when she took it away, but that’s okay, because it seemed he thought that meant it was his turn. One hand clenching her hip, his other hand cupped her tummy, fingers flexing soft circles in the flesh over her womb. He could feel his blood rising as he stroked the font of life that lay beneath her skin. Out of there kicked no child, but the shocking pressure of some unnamable potential. It was like touching a holy place, a place of miracles. It left him trembling.<br/><br/>He looked up at her. “What<em>are</em>you?”<br/>