Daisy huffs a pleased little laugh and tosses the cardigan onto the bar—it's the closest to a do not disturb sign any passersby are going to get. She drops to her knees, crawling over Erin to kiss and lick up her throat, leaving smudged, bloody lip prints in her wake on her way to kiss Erin with passion that climbs quickly, eagerly, to violence.

Even the taste of that much of Erin's blood makes her shiver. Her teeth tug at Erin's lip, her claws dig sharply into Erin's thighs as she yanks them up to frame her own body between them. Chipping away at that protection between them, wants to feel Erin's blood beneath her claws, to carve her mark in that flawless skin until she heals.

When she pulls back, she simply says: "Get your tits out."