Fire and Blood
by Melissa Treglia
Her purr was not a soft one, but sensual and dangerous. She was born of fire and blood, the fury of the desert itself. Sekhmet's fury never waned, even as Bast tried to calm her. Finally, Bast could stand it no more. Pulse pounding in Bast's ears, every tendon in her body flooded with fear and desire, Bast's lips recklessly crashed against Sekhmet's.
Sekhmet's answering growl was softer, as she pushed Bast down against the hard ground. Her hands fondled Bast's pliant body roughly, her sharp kisses setting the other's flesh aflame.
Bast keened as Sekhmet handled her roughly, wanting more of that fury until Sekhmet's hands found tender, slick folds and thrust in. A wicked grin came over Sekhmet's face as her willing prisoner cried out, not in pain but in ecstacy.
"I win." Of course, she always did.