She moved into the caress, taking her time to blink her eyes open and take in the sun-washed cream walls and heavy, masculine furniture. The twinges in intimate muscles overworked and overstimulated by the events of the previous evening gradually evaporated the sensual fog, but a languid and lazy glance at the clock made her gasp. Her eyes shot open, and Rose bolted upright, out of Ibraham’s seductive hold. Throwing the covers back, she muttered aloud, “It’s after ten. I’m so going to be late.” Behind her, Ibraham shifted on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow to watch her stumble to the bathroom. After using the facilities and washing her hands, Rose shuffled back into the room. Rose was more than aware of the slight stiffness of her movements, but there was no way she could ever be sorry. Not after all the wickedly wonderful things Ibraham had introduced her to the night before. Not after experiencing the power and energy of his passion, his command.
What do You think about Poker Posse 1: Looking At Rose?
