The kiss found her mouth as strange to the touch as it had been to the eye; there was not pressure supporting her upper lip now as there should have been, and she tasted strongly of blood and alcohol, of iron and wine, not just upon her lips but all over her mouth and chin. For whatever strange reason that was giving her the impetus, she returned the kiss as well as the motions that were rocking her hard upon the table, until he broke with her completely and turned her over.<br/><br/>Strong, pale hand slapped against the edge of the table for grip as he drove back in, the table creaking, and the evidence of its rough surface was clear upon her now - breasts and stomach scratched, the fronts of her thighs darkening in two horizontal lines where she'd been taken with cruel hardness against the edge of the furniture.<br/><br/>She could easily have used this leverage and position to attack him now; but she did not. Instead, her body remained still as she could make it before his onslaught, one hand releasing its grip upon the table to drift up over her hip, and not down between her thighs, where his abdomen pressed with hard slaps against her abused pearl, sending little shocks into her with every thrust. Instead, her fingertips danced thoughtfully over her lower abdomen, until they reached the front of her far hip and dragged back again, creating for a moment furrows in the soft flesh like a tilled garden, before the natural elasticity of skin obliterated them, and her body lurched up into a soft arch, almost presenting him with the peaked crest of her bosom as she gasped.