Epilogue
Some things are better left in the past. And true things are destined to repeat themselves.
- Suzanne Young
ANA
SIX MONTHS LATER
“Colton…” I breathe. “Colton, stop… The music is playing.”
The violins kick in louder, just outside the door. The sounds of a piano playing in the distance catches my ear and in the large coat closet of Griff’s Miami beach house, the clothes hangers clatter as the large man in front of me, beautiful and built, presses me to the wall, his mouth on one n****e, his cool breath spreading between my breasts as he hungrily sucks and kisses, licks and flicks his way down my body.
My legs shudder, struggling to support themselves.
Colton’s fingers pull at my panties. His large thumb strums between my thighs, and I moan loudly, making the tiny walls vi
