" He ran his nose along my neck with a needy growl. Fuck, I liked that sound. It screwed with my feminism to admit this, but I liked reducing him to his basest instincts. I liked him hungry for me, and desperate to kiss and bite and growl and fuck. Or maybe that was exactly how feminism was supposed to go. "

― Kate Canterbary , The Spire (The Walshes, #6)