Quintessa scoffed, "As if you're one to talk about not kissing."

Her room seemed to be Tyrone's favorite crash spot; the hotel clearly didn't care as long as the cash flowed.

Head bowed, Tyrone bit her lip, "Could he ever compare to me? What is he, some old guy kissing you, I'll end him."

The smell of alcohol was heavy on Tyrone; Quintessa wondered just how much he had drunk, as if he'd been marinating in a whiskey barrel for days.

Quintessa pushed him away, "Why didn't you just drink yourself to death with your uncle outside? Get away."

Tyrone grunted, "No, I'm not leaving; I'm staying."

"Then move over; this is my room. If you're broke, go sleep on the streets; don't hog

on her lips, gently nibbling, whispering, "I need to erase his scent from

and Quintessa could only feel the burning heat from Tyrone, the

Quintessa found Tyrone's kiss surprisingly tender and lingering, her hands instinctively reaching

and warmth in each

ear, Tyrone said, "Quintessa, be

fluttered, the intimacy and flirtation from his kiss fading with those words. She gently patted Tyrone's head, "Be

reacted fast, "Alright, let's

so, he quickly shed his clothes and reached for Quintessa's nightgown, Quintessa clenched her teeth, thinking she might tolerate just sleeping

him off the bed, "I don't want to sleep with you;

explode in anger or come back

right. She

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