The room was so quiet that Leslie and Arnold could hear each other breathing. She was still lying in his bed, gawking at his wound, and he was focused on her self-criticisms.
Leslie watched his abdominal muscles twitch every time he moved, and she drew closer to him. Then, when she was within kissing distance, like a man lapping up a woman's menstruation, she dipped her tongue into the bloody gash in his side.
Arnold's body instantly tightened. Every muscle of his body stiffened. The muscles on his face twitched, and Leslie could hear his teeth clench. And then he struck her, and she flew across the room, and her back smashed against his dresser. Her head cracked against the metal handle on the drawer, and when her ass hit the carpet, she made no sound.