She’s afraid of me. I look at the cast on her hand and the bruise on her face.“I’m not your mistress,” I say. Her eyes look down. She’s disa...pointed. “I’m sorry,” I add. “I can’t be.”“Okay …” she says. It’s pathetic. God, is everything about her always so pathetic?I get down on my knees and lift her chin, looking her in the eye. “Hey, listen,” I say. She has such pretty eyes. I lean in and kiss her forehead. “I’m here, okay?” I kiss her forehead again and bring her to my chest. “I’m here, but. I prowled over her greeted by fire in her eyes. She gasped, “Woo, you are really are not nervous anymore.”I shook my head, “Neither are you.”Still, we exchanged a contemplative gaze as spirited music drifted through the quiet air. “English?” she whispered, “Promise me something?”“Anything.”“Fulfil me and make me feel desired,”I kissed her softly, “Always.”“If you do, I will fulfil you too,” and she kissed me back, “beyond your wildest dreams.” Rolling me over, kisses lingered on my lips, and. More

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