Tall, Tatted and Tempting 6 страница

I know he wasn’t unaffected by it. He was rock hard, and he had to ball the covers up in his lap more than once. But he ignored it. I ignored it. I wanted to reach over and touch him, but he doesn’t want that from me. He wants all of me. And I’m not free to give it away. I’ll never be free.

I roll over and brush my hair from my eyes. I still can’t get used to the black hair. It’s so different from my natural color. Every time I look at myself in a mirror, I have to do a double-take and try to figure out who I’m looking at. Maybe I’ll never know.

My eyes land on a sketch pad that’s propped against the lamp on Logan’s end table. I crawl closer to it on my hands and knees, and close my eyes tightly, wincing when I see that he’s drawn a naked woman. She’s drawn in pencil, and he has shaded all the parts of her naked body. But what immediately grabs my attention is that there’s one streak of color on the whole thing. It’s down the left side of her hair. It’s blue.

Oh, crap. It’s me.

I sit up on the edge of the bed and pick it up. It’s me. Definitely me. My arms are down by my sides, and my fists are clenched tightly. There’s a look of defiance on my face. I’ve never seen an artist capture a look like that. But he’s done it. There’s a towel on the floor beside my toe and my foot is pointed like I just kicked it to the side.

He’s drawn shadowing around my boobs, and my nipples are standing tall, sticking out like they’ve been kissed tight. My stomach clenches and I have to force myself to take a breath. There’s a small triangle of hair at the vee between my thighs. I close my eyes. It’s almost lifelike. It’s me. He drew me. From memory. At the bottom are some scribbled words. They’re written in all caps and the letters are spaced far apart.

I L O O K E D

Yes, apparently he did. There’s no doubt about it. He saw me naked. And he remembered every dip, every curve and every strand of hair. Or lack of hair. Yikes. I close the sketch pad so no one else will see it. I’m feeling a bit over-exposed, like he somehow peeled back a layer of me and forced me to look at it as closely as he did.

I can’t believe I accused him of not wanting to look at me. He obviously did. He looked closer than anyone ever has. I take a deep breath and sit there for a minute with my eyes closed.

I slide on a pair of jeans beneath Logan’s t-shirt and put on a bra. I like his brothers, but I’m not one hundred percent sure who’s in the house. And I don’t want to walk out there to get a cup of coffee to find everyone dressed appropriately and for me to be the one who’s not. Padding around in the middle of the night is one thing. This is different.

I let myself out of the room and look around. The apartment is empty. I’m kind of glad that Logan’s not there, since my face is flaming just thinking about how closely he perused my body. If he was there in the flesh, I’d be a puddle on the floor.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen the apartment when it wasn’t full of testosterone and male bodies. It’s a mess, like usual. I pour myself f a cup of coffee and load the dishwasher, and then clean the countertops. I can’t help it. They might not even want me to do it. But I do it anyway. My life is such a mess, and what I want most in the world is to tidy it up. Since I can’t tidy my own life, I’ll tidy their apartment instead. I remove a rubber band from a stack of mail and twist my hair up out of my face. If I’m going to clean, I’m going to do it right.

I start a load of laundry, and fold what’s in the dryer. I don’t know which shirt goes to which man, since they’re all big boys. So, I just make a neat pile of them and stack them on the kitchen table. The pile grows as the day goes on, and by the end of the afternoon, the house is still empty and quiet, and it’s clean from top to bottom. I didn’t clean any of their bedrooms, because that would be an invasion of their privacy, and my cleaning at all might be, now that I think of it. I bite my fingernails and look around. They won’t be mad, will they?

I go into the bathroom and look beneath the sink. There were cleaning supplies there the other day, and it could use refreshing. I lift a bucket of baby toys out of the way and then I stop. I shuffle through them. There are tiny boats, bath crayons, and a rubber ducky. I give it a squeeze and it goes flat, a hiss of air escaping it. Why do they have baby toys?

The curiosity is killing me. Do they have a little sister? They couldn’t possibly. Logan said he lived with four brothers the day I met him. He didn’t say anything about a sister. I put the bucket back under the sink, and keep cleaning.

The timer on the dryer goes off, and I fold the last load of laundry, blowing a lock of hair out of my eyes. I look toward the window, and see that the day is nearly gone. So much for busking in the subway. And Fridays are usually my best days, since people just got paid and they’re feeling generous. I have wasted the whole day cleaning Logan’s apartment, but I feel good about it. I put my hands on my hips and look around the room. I did a good job. I’ve mopped, and vacuumed, dusted, and put things away. Of course, I had to guess where a lot of stuff goes. The stuff I’m not sure about, I’ve been putting on the kitchen table with the stacked laundry.

I open a kitchen drawer and stumble back when I see that it’s full of condoms. Nothing but condoms. They’re in every shape, every size and every color. And every flavor, if the banana on the front of one is any indication. My face fills with heat. Why on earth do they have a drawer filled with condoms? I slam it shut, and walk away. It’s none of my business.

I carry the mop bucked toward the sink so that I can dump it. I pick it up, and just as I’m walking across the kitchen floor, the door of the apartment opens, and Logan walks through. Only he’s not alone. On his shoulders, there’s a blonde with two squiggly pony tails. He ducks to get through the door, and she giggles when he wiggles her feet and pretends to dump her off his shoulders.

He stops in front of the closed door and freezes when he sees me standing there. He must not have expected me to still be there. And I certainly didn’t expect for him to have a child. He starts toward me, one hand holding on to her feet tightly at the base of his neck. And the other reaches for me. But I’m so startled by the girl that the bucket of sudsy water slips from my hands.

“Stop!” I warn, because I don’t want him to slip with his daughter on his shoulders.

I’m so damn happy to see Kit that I want to run to her and pick her and spin her around. I wonder if she’d giggle like Hayley does when I jostle her. Probably not. I wasn’t sure Kit would still be here, and I was really worried she’d vanished when she didn’t come to see me at the tattoo parlor.

Water crashes over the toes of my boots, and Kit rushes to right the bucket. She slumps, looking down at the mess. But her dejection only lasts for a second. She gets herself together and rushes to the table, where there are piles of folded laundry and she grabs towels, throwing them down over the spill.

She’s saying something but I can’t read her lips. I walk toward her and she warns me to stop, holding up her hands. Her eyes dart to Hayley, and then back to my face, and she doesn’t look too happy with me. I set Hayley on the counter and put a cookie in her hands, and she settles there to watch us, her mouth full of chocolate chips. Hayley’s three, and she’s a cool kid.

I move the towels around with my boots, and Kit drops to her knees to mop up all the water. She pushes the towels around frantically, until it’s all cleaned up. Then she throws the wet towels in the mop bucket and starts a load of wash with them in it. She comes back to the kitchen and looks at Hayley, who’s still perched on the counter, happily munching on her cookie. Paul’s going to have my ass when he finds out I gave her chocolate, but I needed to entertain her for a second.

Kit blows her hair out her eyes with a frustrated breath and glares at me. “You’re home,” she says. Her hands are on her hips, and she’s not wearing any make up and her hair’s a mess and she has a line of dirt streaked across her forehead. But she’s never looked prettier.

I nod. The knees of Kit’s jeans are wet, and her shirt’s damp now, too. “What have you been doing?” I ask. I look around. The apartment is clean. And I don’t just mean “straighten it up because Grandma’s coming over” clean. I mean spotlessly clean. Like showroom floor clean. But better. It smells nice. And it looks nice. And she’s here. God, I’m so happy she’s here.

She shrugs. “How was your day?” she asks. Her gaze zips between me and Hayley. Hayley’s making a mess, but I don’t care.

“Better, now,” I admit. I feel like someone took a weight off my chest when I walked into the room and saw her here. I reach for Kit, and squeeze her to me, kissing her on the forehead. She scrunches up her face, and pushes back from me, her gaze jumping to Hayley again.

“Who’s that?” she asks warily.

I wet a kitchen towel and wipe Hayley’s mouth and hands clean. She hasn’t gotten it on her dress yet, but I know it’ll happen any second. Her mother will shit a brick if we send her back with dirty clothes. I tickle Hayley’s tummy and she giggles, her belly clenching as she arches into my hands. “This is Hayley.”

Hayley looks a little confused, and I pick her up, putting her on my hip. She wraps around me, and one hand covers my mouth. I kiss her palm and make noises at her. She wiggles in my grasp. She’s probably confused about the noises coming out of my mouth. I’ve never talked in front of her before.

“How old is she?”

“How old are you Hayley?” I ask her, jostling her on my hip.

She holds up three fingers.

“Three?” Kit says, like she’s amazed. “Such a big girl.” Kit looks at me. “Does she talk?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. Her lips are really hard to read, so I don’t know if she talks or if she’s just making noises. She knows how to sign simple words like food, milk, bath, water, and other things she needs. She and I do pretty well together. Most of it is just me trying to figure out what she needs, but Hayley doesn’t seem to mind. “She might.”

Kit bends down to her level and asks, “Do you talk?” Kit smiles and she’s so damn pretty making faces at Hayley that I want to kiss her. I grab Kit quickly around the waist and jerk her into my side with a hand on her hip, and she laughs, looking up at me. I kiss her on the forehead and Hayley bats the side of my face with her open palm. “I don’t think she likes that,” Kit says, backing away from me.

“She’ll have to get used to it.” Kit’s eyes meet mine, and then they skitter away.

“She’s adorable,” she says, but she’s not looking in my eyes. We’ll have to talk about that later.

“What happened to the apartment?” I ask, a grin tugging at my lips. She looks unsure of herself as she brushes her hair back from her face. That streak of dirt is still across her forehead and I reach out to wipe it away with my thumb.

She wrings her hands together and doesn’t look me in the eye. “I did a little cleaning.”

I take her chin in my hand and tip her face up to mine. “I’m glad you’re still here.”

“You’re not mad, are you?” she asks. She bites her bottom lip.

“That you’re here?” I ask softly. “I’m fucking ecstatic.”

She scowls and looks at Hayley. “Language,” she says. “And I meant about the cleaning. I started it this morning and… well… I couldn’t stop.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

“I know,” she says with a shrug. “I wanted to. And I sort of feel like I owe you guys for letting me stay here.”

“You don’t owe us anything,” I try to explain. I tug her to me again. I like the feel of this girl in my arms so much more than I should. “I like having you here.”

She smiles up at me, and then Hayley starts to jump in my arms. She’s excited, and reaches over my shoulder. I look back and Paul’s coming in the door. She gets so excited to see Paul.

Kit starts smiling beside me, and then she grins, and air escapes her in one big relaxed breath. I’m not sure what that’s about.

“You met Hayley, I see,” Paul says to Kit. She nods as Paul takes her from me. “See, Hayley,” he says to his daughter, “now you won’t be the only girl in the house.” He dances around in a circle with her. I’m reading his lips, because it’s really hard to sign when your hands are full of baby. I can’t see what he says when he dances around in a circle, but whatever it is makes Kit smile.

Kit points a finger at Paul and smiles. “She’s yours?” she asks.

Paul looks from me to her. “You’re not trying to use my daughter to score with chicks again, are you?” Paul asks, punching me in the shoulder. “I can’t let him take her to the grocery store. He gets too much attention from the ladies.”

Paul looks around the apartment and grins. “What the fuck happened here?” he asks.

Kit scowls at him, too. “Language,” she says, looking toward Hayley. She’s smiling now, though, and she looks like she’s taking deep breaths, which she wasn’t doing when I first walked into the house.

“Who cleaned?” Paul asked. He wipes a spot on Hayley’s cheek with his thumb and says, “And who gave you chocolate?” He scowls at me. I shrug my shoulders and grin.

Kit cleaned up. I pull her into my side, and she wraps an arm around my waist, lays one hand on my chest, and looks up at me. Isn’t she amazing?

Paul looks from me to her and back again, sticks his finger down his throat like he’s going to hurl and walks away with Hayley toward his bedroom. He looks back at me long enough to say, “You’re going to be late for work if you don’t hurry.” He looks down at Hayley. “Tell Uncle Logan he’s going to be late.” He shows her the sign for late and she does it. She’s adorable when she signs. They disappear into his bedroom and I look down at Kit. I bend my head and touch my lips to hers. I don’t want to pull back, but I do have to hurry. “I have to go out,” I say.

Her brows raise, and she looks wary. “Out?” she says.

I nod. “I have to work tonight. Do you want to go with me?”

She looks down at her wet shirt, and brushes a lock of hair from her forehead. “I haven’t even had a shower today.”

“How quickly can you get ready?” I ask, looking at my watch. I have thirty minutes before I have to be there.

Warm water sluices over my body, and I force myself to hurry up. Logan is probably dancing from foot to foot in the living room waiting for me so he won’t be late for work. Apparently, he’s a bouncer at some club around the corner on Friday nights. And he wants me to go with him.

I hear the door to the bathroom open and I freeze. “Matt?” I call. He’s the only one who might come into the bathroom with me, and that’s only if he’s sick.

I open the bath curtain an inch and look out. Logan is standing there, looking at me. He changed clothes, and now he’s wearing a pair of jeans, his boots, and a blue t shirt that says “Bounce(r)” on the front of it. It strains across his broad shoulders. His eyes are a startling shade of blue against the azure shirt, and he looks at my face as I poke my nose through the curtain. My hair is full of suds, and soap is burning one of my eyes. “Is something wrong?” I ask.

He shakes his head and smiles at me. He doesn’t say anything else, but he stands there with one shoulder against the wall with his arms crossed. “I have a question,” he finally says.

I lean back and wash the soap from my face and hair, and then poke my head back through, blowing water from my lips. “Ask it,” I say.

“It bothered you when you thought Hayley was mine,” he says. His face doesn’t change. He’s still appraising me closely. But he’s not leering, or trying to look at my naked body. He’s totally respectful, just like always.

It did bother me when I thought Hayley might be his. They have the same deep blue eyes, and their hair color is similar. And he was so familiar with her. But then she’s called Paul Daddy, and everything was suddenly all right. I know he can’t read my lips unless I stick my head out of the shower. “What makes you say that?” I ask.

He snorts. “I read people every day, all day, and I have to tell how they feel by the way they hold themselves, rather than the inflections in their voices. And something tells me that you didn’t like thinking that Hayley was mine.”

He looks closely at me, and I know he’s still appraising my reactions.

“Either you don’t like kids, or you didn’t like the idea of me having a kid.” He shuffles his feet. “I just wanted to tell you that I might not be able to hear, but I’m fully capable of taking care of a child. If I wasn’t, Paul wouldn’t leave her with me.”

He heaves a sigh, and then he turns to walk out of the door. I call his name, but he doesn’t hear me. So, I jump out of the shower and grab for the towel, letting it fall open in front of me, but I don’t have time to wrap it around me. I clutch it to my chest, and grab his arm. He turns back toward me, one eyebrow rising as he looks at me.

“It wasn’t that I don’t think you’re capable of taking care of her,” I say. “It wasn’t that at all.”

“Then what was it?” he asks.

It’s so hard to explain, but if I don’t tell him the reason it bothered me, he’ll go on thinking it’s because I think he can’t do the kid justice with his disability, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“I thought she was yours,” I say with my eyes closed. He tips my chin up with an insistent finger.

“What?” he asks.

“I thought she was yours,” I repeat. This time, I make sure he can see my lips; although that’s the last thing I want him to see me say. “I thought she was your daughter.”

He grimaces. “Again, I’m fully capable of taking care of a child. I can watch the lights on a monitor just like anyone else. And changing diapers doesn’t require my ears.” He’s irritated. And I can tell it. “She cries, and I can figure out what she needs.”

“It’s not that.” God, I’m so stupid. I bury my wet face in my hands and he urges them down, watching my lips. “I was jealous,” I admit. There. I said it.

“Jealous?” he asks. “Of Hayley? She’s three, for Christ’s sake.”

“I know.” I don’t know how to tell him. “It made me wonder what kind of a stupid woman would ever let you go.” And made me realize someone else has had him. Probably a lot of someone’s. A lot of someone’s I can’t compete with.

He chuckles, the air in the room lightening. “That’s all it was?” he asks, his voice incredulous. That’s not really all it was. I also wondered how in the world I would do sharing him with someone else. But he’s not mine to share, is he? Not really. Not at all.

I nod. “That’s all. It’s not because you’re deaf. I was just jealous.” I shrug. “I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” I want to tell him that I want him all to myself. But I’m not free to do that.

“I don’t have any kids,” he says. “In case you were wondering.”

The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind until I saw Hayley. “All right.”

“I want kids someday,” he says. His voice is soft and he’s looking into my eyes. “Do you?”

“I don’t know.” The idea of trying to help a kid of my own with homework, and spelling, and school is sometimes overwhelming to me. “I don’t think I’d make a great mother.”

His lips press against my forehead and he lays his hands on my naked hips. I draw in a breath. My hips are bare and his hands cover them completely as he pulls me toward him. The towel that was draped in front of me gets sandwiched between our bodies.

“I’m glad you came to talk to me,” I croak out.

He dips his head, and kisses the side of my jaw. I don’t even think about it; I tilt my head to give him better access. “I am, too,” he says against my skin.

I could say more, but he’s not looking at my face. He’s not looking at anything. His eyes are closed. His hands slide around to my bottom and he lifts me against him. “I have never wanted to have sex with someone I care about,” he says.

He’s hard against my belly, and I can barely think or take in a breath.

I lift up his shirt, and lay my hands on his stomach. The muscles ripple under my fingertips. I want to touch him. I want to touch him so badly. “Pretend I’m someone you don’t care about,” I say impulsively.

He must have seen my lips, because he stills. “You think I can do that?” he asks, his voice incredulous. He lifts a hand and runs it though his hair. “I don’t think you realize how very much I like you.”

He likes me a lot if the rather impressive size of him pressed against my stomach is any indication.

He must read my mind, because he sighs heavily, and says, “I don’t mean like that.” A muscle ticks in his jaw for a moment, and then he steps back from me, lifts the towel and wraps it around my naked body. “I’ve had sex. Lots of sex. But I’ve never had it with anyone who matters to me.”

He’s only known me a few days. “Why do I matter so much? What makes me different?” Now I’m dying to know.

He shakes his head.

“Tell me,” I prompt.

“I’ve been locked in my own world for a really long time,” he says. “I have an excuse to keep people away, because of my disability. And then I saw your tattoo.” I turn his wrist over and trace my finger across it. He shudders at my touch, closing his eyes tightly. “And I felt like maybe, just maybe, we were each locked in our own little worlds and we could let each other out.”

He’s pouring his heart out here, and I have nothing of encouragement to say. “But there’s nothing wrong with you,” I start. I look up at him, and he looking at me with a warning in his eyes.

“That’s not true.” He shakes his head.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. So, we’re not on equal footing, and we never will be.”

He shakes his head again, like there’s something on the tip of his tongue that he wants to say but won’t.

“I can’t read. I can’t get a job. I can’t go to school. I can’t do any of the things my family wanted for me.” Actually, they’d wanted me to get married and have babies, because all I was good for was being a trophy wife. But I refused. That’s why I left. They’d compartmentalized me, deciding I couldn’t play my music because it was “beneath our class” and I couldn’t further my education, because it was too hard for them to watch me struggle. It was all about them. Always about them.

“Don’t underestimate your own value, dummy,” he says.

I stiffen. I hate that word. Absolutely hate it. He stiffens when I do.

“What?” he asks. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t ever call me a dummy, Logan,” I say, my teeth grinding together so hard they hurt.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” he rushes to say. He takes my face in his hands, holding it tightly as he looks into my eyes. “I didn’t mean it.” He chuckles, but there’s no mirth in the sound. “It’s a term of endearment in our family. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Really I didn’t. I don’t think you’re stupid. You have a fucking learning disability. But you’re not stupid. I know that.”

I wish I knew it. He sounds so sure about it. “It’s all right,” I say, but I’m already pushing back from him. Tears are pricking at the backs of my lashes.

“Don’t pull away from me,” he warns.

That makes me laugh. “I’m not the one who’s always pulling away, Logan,” I remind him. I push him back again, but he’s not having any of it. Suddenly, his hands clutch my bottom and he hoists me up onto the bathroom countertop.

“Forgive me,” he says.

I nod, and he kisses the corners of my eyes where tears have formed. That word hurts me. It always has. And it was the final straw that made me leave my parent’s house. That word and others like it. I’ve heard them for too long.

He bends his head and his lips touch mine. He licks into me, his tongue soft but insistent. I lay my palm flat on the side of his face and he keeps kissing me. He’s taking my mind off that word. I already know what he’s doing. I applaud him for it. Because he’s stealing the pain along with my wits.

He jerks the towel from between us, and looks down at my naked body. I’m perched there on the countertop, and he stands between my legs. He licks his lips, and my heart beats double time. God, he’s sexy. I pull his mouth back to mine, and he allows it, but not for more than a moment. Then his head dips, and he takes my nipple into his mouth. He’s not gentle. He’s rough. His five o’clock shadow rubs against the underside of my breast as he suckles my nipple, drawing it deep into his mouth, touching something inside me that I didn’t even know existed.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, lifting his head to look into my face.

I shake my head. “Don’t stop,” I say. I thread my fingers into his hair, and hold him tight to me, tugging his hair gently, and he moans around my nipple. My head falls back, and I lean against the mirror, watching his face as he sucks on the turgid flesh. His other hand slides down my belly, toward my curls, where it slips between my legs. I open my legs wider for him. Logan raises his head, and buries his face in the curve of my neck as he dips a finger inside me and brings it forward, using my own wetness to slicken his way. His finger strums across my clit, and I nearly leap off the counter. He presses his body closer to mine, his free hand plucking at my nipple, elongating it with his urgent tugs, as his middle finger strokes me.

If he doesn’t stop, I’m going to come. “Logan,” I say. He can’t see my lips, so I tug his head up until he looks at me. I can barely get the words to form on my lips. “I’m going to come before you do, if you don’t stop.” I start to work at the button on his jeans and he brushes my hands away.

He looks deep into my eyes and asks, “What’s your name?”

I can’t answer. I don’t answer. I close my eyes tightly and arch against his fingertips, which are still taking me higher. When I don’t respond, Logan growls, drops onto his knees in front of me, and shoves my legs apart. Then he licks me from bottom to top.

I sink my hands into his hair, tugging him up when he goes down, and he takes the hint. He latches onto my clit with his lips and tongue, suckling softly as he stares up at me, his eyes as blue as the sea. I look into his face as he pushes me, and pushes me, and pushes me and then finally I’m crying out. He doesn’t stop when I start to come. Instead, he slides a finger inside me and strokes me from the inside, while his mouth feasts on me. “Oh, God!” I cry.

My body quakes and I shake uncontrollably, pressing his face closer to me as I come. He slows his licks and nudges as my body stills. Now when he licks me from bottom to top, I like it, and I tremor as he passes my clit. He does it over and over until my body stills. I lie back limply against the mirror, and pull him up to face me. “Your turn,” I say, and I reach for the button of his jeans.

He shakes his head. “No.”

“What?” I don’t understand.

He lifts me to stand in front of him.

“You don’t want me?” I ask.

“Fuck, girl, I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone or anything.” He presses his forehead against mine and he’s breathing hard. His lips touch mine softly, but there’s an urgency there, too. He bends over and picks up the towel, wrapping it around me, tucking it tightly between my breasts. Then he opens the door, shoves me out into the hallway, and locks the bathroom door behind me.

Fuck!

I scrub my hand down my face, and then run my fingers through my hair, squeezing my head in my hands like a big pimple that’s ready to burst. That’s not the only thing that’s ready to burst.

I’ve never been as fucking turned on as I am right now. Kit was wet, and warm, and she was willing. She would have let me fuck her right here on the countertop if I’d said yes. I know she would have. And she wouldn’t have had any regrets. But I would. Although right now, I’m rethinking my decision to put her outside the door. I reach for the handle and get ready to turn it so I can beckon her back into the room, but I jerk my hand back.

I desperately needed to take that look off her face, and the only thing I could think of was to put her mind on something else. But now I can’t get my mind off the look on her face when she came. Or how tightly she gripped my finger when she trembled. Good God, that girl can undo me.

My junk is so hard I could pound nails with it.

The door vibrates as someone pounds on it. Probably Paul telling me to hurry up so I won’t be late for work. But my dick’s so hard that I can barely stand up straight, much less walk.

I run my hands through my hair again. Deep breaths.

Shit. I’ll never get out of here this way.

I take a towel from under the sink and lay it in front of me, and unzip my jeans. This won’t take but a second. Because I know I’ll think about her while I do it. I spit into my palm and take the head of my dick in my hand, pulling away from me with a tight grip.

God, I’ll never get the sight of her coming out of my mind. She’d cried out once. I’m sure of it. I could feel her throat move through the side of my cheek. It was a soft vibration, and it happened when she started to squeeze around my finger.

Дата добавления: 2014-12-24