He entered me, so slick, so easy. No, he wasn’t Ryan; that much I knew. No, this was someone I’d never felt before, who’s technique was even better than Chandler’s, who possessed a certain, detached passion, while Ryan’s was full of emotion. No, this one was all business, yet also contained a hint of excitement, of feelings held rigidly in check lest they run amok.
His hips ground against mine, and I responded, pushing upwards, taking him inside me, deep. Not as deep as Ryan or Chandler or Gerard, but into the depths, down, down to where that black sickness still held sway.
Francesca leaned down at my side again. “C’mon, baby,” she said. “Let it go.”
“I’m trying, I’m trying!” I said.
Whack!
Another slap.
“Aaahhhh!”
“Try harder!”
I gasped. Fought for air. My head swam.
“Release you
