The taste on the tip of my tongue

It was an unusual sensation, floating on the waves as they were. The water chill in her coat, and fire burning in her belly. Anywhere and everywhere Sitka touched her sent a fire through her, wild and roaring. Fierce and hungry, like a forest-killer. And then Sitka manoeuvred himself beneath her, and her breathy noises were louder than the soft lapping of the waves.

She enjoyed him, the taste of him, and the motions of him for a time, and then she dug her claws into his coat, and turned, crawling up his belly until her mouth could taste his lips again, and she pushed herself onto him. Claiming him there on the open waters with all the ferocity in her nature. Ravishing the wolf she had come to see as hers. Her companion, her lover. Hers, hers, hers.

-fade?-

"Speech"