Exact
R. 09/01/2004.

"It's an art knife. I use it to--ungh--cut mats," Kaitlyn groaned.

Gabriel's tongue thoroughly explored her navel. He held the knife away, but she could still see it. She squirmed beneath him.

Gabriel had been rifling through her art kit for the last half-hour, pausing to test this or that brush, quill, paint against her skin. The knife had been near the bottom.

"And what," he said thoughtfully, pulling back, "should I use it to do? I have no use for mats."

She closed her eyes and shivered as the cold metal caressed the underside of her breast, slicing open just enough for Gabriel to see what her skin hid. He looked, and then his open mouth covered the open mouth of the wound, and when the pull on her mind mimicked that on her blood, she burned.

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