When the lovely Carol turned to speak with the customs agent, Alessandro chanced to look up at the man’s face.
The bastado was eyeing la piccolina’s legs as though he wished to lick them. Alessandro felt his teeth beginning to extend.
He could not allow the change to take him here.
Carol was not ready.
And Alessandro’s father, the Count, would have his head if Alessandro were gauche enough to allow the change to take him while surrounded by humans.
Alessandro strode forward.
“Ah, piccolina, forgive me again. I must taste you now.”
Carol’s mouth rounded into a perfect ‘O’ of surprise, and then began to widen. Oh, no. Alessandro could not allow her to deny him, not now, with the change so close. He swooped down, gathering her curvy body tightly against his own.
Carol punched his shoulder.
He nibbled on her lips.
She kicked his shin and opened her mouth.
Alessandro eased his tongue inside, kissing her as deeply as he dared in public.
The customs agent cleared his throat.
"Signore. Singorina, mi sentirete sicuramente questo bacio ancora quando mi sdraio nel cimitero, ma potresti almeno un passo avanti? Ho timbrato il vostro passaporto. La linea e lunga, e il mio supervisore e un diavolo senz'anima, che non si cura che si e innamorati. Per favore. Si muovono lungo."
Alessandro tore himself from the inviting paradise of Carol’s lush mouth.
“Piccolina, the customs agent asks that we move along.”
The man had said much more than that, but those were the relevant words.
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