Finally, a hit back. Mac was starting to wonder if the man enjoyed being on the defensive, and getting hit. She licked at the corner of her mouth where a little blood droplet had formed in response to his strike. It drove her next moves against him, wanting more of what he had to offer in the fight.
The shallow cut on Jack's throat didn't go unnoticed, and Mac withheld a sadistic grin at the sight. It was a move she'd do, had done actually, in both fight and play. In a fight, she'd done it as a dare, calling the bluff of the guy who had her pinned, calling him out on the fact her wouldn't actually do it. Obviously, she won that gamble every time. In play, she enjoyed mixing the painful sting of a fresh cut with the pleasure of everything else going on.
His moan solicited one of her own, especially when he hit her hard against the wall. As much as she was a fan of knives, Mac wanted to feel and claw at him with both her hands. So the knife was thrown at the wall across from them, sticking neatly into it before she ran her claws over his back, shredding his shirt as she pressed her center against his hand.
"I'm starting not to mind it now," she managed to say breathlessly. Which was true enough, for the moment, at least, she wasn't minding the biting. But that's because it was adding to all of this, just as was his blood smearing over her breasts as they pressed against each other, and the scent of their blood and heightened arousal hung in the air.