Apparently it was the wrong thing to say. Anger flashes in her eyes again, and she tries to pull away, but I hold her to me.
"Sorry? You're sorry?! I don't want you to be sorry, Mr. Snow; I want you to bend me over and fuck the ever living shit out of me. I want you to shove your cock down my throat, gag me, and use me in every way. I want—"
I cut her off, as I grab a handful of her long black hair, pull her head back and mash my lips to hers. Her entire body shudders as I forcefully part her lips, and she has a minor orgasm, a small portion of her soul joining mine. She really must have been on edge, for her to cum so quickly and easily.
Pulling back from her, I let her fill her lungs with air, as she bends over, putting her hands on her knees.
"It's because you're this generator thing, isn't it?" she asks me breathlessly. When I don't immediately answer, she tilts her head up to look at me. "Why I feel, for lack of a better term, addicted to you."
