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."

this is my room. If you're broke, go sleep on the streets; don't hog my bed." Whether drunk or sober, Tyrone mumbled, "I won't go. I want to roll with you

he leaned down to kiss Quintessa accurately on her lips, gently nibbling, whispering, "I need to erase his scent from you, you

they couldn't see each other's faces, and Quintessa could only feel the burning heat from Tyrone,

the alcohol, but Quintessa found Tyrone's kiss surprisingly

people to seek solace and warmth in each other's company,

said, "Quintessa, be mine, I can protect

from his kiss fading with those words. She

fast, "Alright, let's

she might tolerate just sleeping beside Tyrone, but now

a kick, she sent him off the bed, "I don't want to sleep with

a thud, Tyrone hit the floor. Quintessa expected him to explode in anger or come back with more persistence, but after a while,

right.

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