Fuck them. She didn’t need them. She didn’t need him. She had herself and a world of beauty at her disposal, if she opened herself back up to it. ...he entered the park and walked along Fenway. The fine gravel under her leather soles felt a little like the Tuileries under her feet. The sweet smell of the river reeds and the Victory Gardens reminded her a bit of the Jardin du Luxemburg. What would it be, the Gardner Museum or the Museum of Fine Arts? It had been ages since she was in either. The. As she gasped heavily, her eyes set upon her sketchbook, reaching for the images she had drawn and for the memories dredged up by them.During their passionate, vocal throes, he refrained from uttering her name. Willow resisted the urge to call him by another, the name strangled in her throat.Willow felt his cock thrusting within her, throbbing, expanding in her tight, wet hole. Her stomach tightened as the roll of her hips intensified, each long, undulating stroke ending with a crisp snap of. More

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