“Calm down, Shy.” Eric manhandled the seventeen year old. “Eric, no, I need my pill, I can’t live without it,” Shilo panicked. The Crow latched onto her arm and began twisting her palpable veins from his grasp in an effort to squeeze out the drug. “Just breathe, babe.” Eric whispered into her ear. “I know what I’m doing,” The Crow felt the trickle of Morphine slide down her arm and spill onto his hand. “Eric... The Crow... I-I...” Shilo fainted at the sight of the mess. “Damn,” The Crow released his hold after assuring himself that every drop of Morphine was redacted. He lifted her tiny frame by the hooks of her knees and arms and carried her to her bed. She looked like a porcelain doll. The Crow lifted his gaze to a portrait she had of her late mother, Marni Wallace. Eric could feel the blood flooding his dick as it began to throb. He stared at a photo of Shilo in her vocalist getup. He was a Rock Musician in his former life, but he never knew Shilo wanted to become a singer. Stirring. The Crow whipped around only to find a shocking scene. Shilo stood in her nightgown and slowly bent toward the floor, picking at her undies sliding down her slender legs. He felt the color flush in his cheeks thinking about Shilo exposed before him; he was a tower compared to her. His boner couldn’t contain itself anymore. “Shilo?” The Crow questioned. “My pussy wants your cockatoo,” She purred. He gulped. Shilo was the second person in the world to make him nervous, close to Shelly who was lain silent in her grave. “Don’t tell me you Rock N’ Roll the other way?” Shilo asked. “What?” Eric feigned. “I’ve only eyes for you,” He growled and threw himself at her. The Crow cupped her face in his hands and his tongue lunged into a pool of saliva. Shilo wanted to suck The Crow dry. Her nimble fingers tightened the black trench coat preventing him from penetrating her. She squeezed the leather in her hands. “Fuck me,” Eric gasped as they broke a strand of saliva dripping down their chins.