Chapter 7
Memories made all the difference. Even if they weren’t really mine.
Leandro opened immediately, inviting me in to take as much as I wanted. Who was I to deny him? Or myself? We’d been separated for over four hundred years. He’d had whole lifetimes without me in it, and I suddenly wondered if I’d just been killing time until he showed up again. It was entirely possible he’d had other lovers in the interim—I certainly had, even if I’d be more likely to call them f**k buddies than anything as intimate as lover—but the way he responded to the simple slide of my tongue into his mouth assured me they probably meant as little to him as mine had to me.
He straightened, though remained on his knees, using his greater height to better press into me. It was a mimicry of our earlier posit
