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“Last night, Bree had been taken. Thoroughly, utterly taken. Gently or roughly, it didn’t matter. This man had reached into the darkest part of her mind, had brought out and laid bare the desires she admitted to no one but herself in her most secret, quiet moments. Her hunger had been allowed to run free. There’d been no guilt, no remorse. Nothing was ‘wrong’. And God, the feeling of freedom was damned addictive. What did that say about her? How could she love Michael, yet give a part of her she’d never felt comfortable sharing with Michael to this stranger.” — E. Jamie
Last night, Bree had been taken. Thoroughly, utterly taken. Gently or roughly, it didn’t matter. This man had reached into the darkest part of her mind, had brought out and laid bare the desires she admitted to no one but herself in her most secret, quiet moments. Her hunger had been allowed to run free. There’d been no guilt, no remorse. Nothing was ‘wrong’. And God, the feeling of freedom was damned addictive. What did that say about her? How could she love Michael, yet give a part of her she’d never felt comfortable sharing with Michael to this stranger.