Nina practically shoved his head against her, and Geralt gave the same laugh again, very quiet, a rumble. He lifted his face, Nina's hands still pulling at his white hair. Geralt replaced his tongue with his palm, pressed the flat of it against her there as he crawled up her body.

He mouthed her hip, sucked until he left soft, damp red marks. Geralt found Nina's neck again, soft, shapely, and instinct, the heady smell of her, had his lips wrapped around the column of it before he could argue otherwise with himself. His teeth dug in, less gently, and he pressed into her skin with them, leaving a broad love bite there.