"He still hadn’t taken blood from me, so he was limp and as small as he got as I sucked and rolled my mouth over him. I loved the feel of a man before he got big, and with most men a little oral sex and they were anything but little almost immediately. But until a vampire took blood there wasn’t enough blood pressure to have that wonderful change of texture and size, so I could suck to my heart’s content without it turning into a challenge to breathing around something much too big to go down my throat that far. I loved deep-throating, but my body didn’t always like not being able to breathe."

I swear I've seen this paragraph word-for-word in earlier books."

I'm pretty sure that's almost exactly word-for-word in The Killing Dance. The downward spiral of her writing has never been more apparent.