I sense his longing mixed with—what? Veneration. It’s as if he’s worshipping me.
I don’t think he’s worshipping you, Ana. I think he’s just obsessed with you.
To know that I have such an effect on him, that I can offer him so much solace, doing this—my inner goddess purrs with pure pleasure.
‘You. Are. Beautiful,’ he says again, his tone emphatic.
And there’s Leila—with a gun, potentially, somewhere—and her crap taste in music still on his iPod.
But of course, the worse thing is that her crap taste in music is still on his iPod.
I select a black bustier corset creation with a price tag of five hundred forty dollars. It has silver trim like filigree and the briefest of panties to match. Thigh-high stockings, too, in a natural color, so fine, pure silk. Wow, they feel . . . slinky . . . and kind of hot . . . yeah.
I have kept my makeup to a minimum, a natural look. Eyeliner, mascara, a little pink blush, and pale pink lipstick.
I don’t really need the blush. I am slightly flushed from the constant movement of the silver balls. Yes, they’ll guarantee I have some color in my cheeks tonight.
Wow, a library, every wall crammed floor to ceiling. In the center is a full-size billiard table illuminated by a long triangular-prism-shaped Tiffany lamp.
‘You have a library!’ I squeak in awe, overwhelmed with excitement.
Oh, no, this scene is SO NOT taken out of a Disney movie…
When I open my eyes again, Christian is regarding me closely, a dark prince. It must be the dinner jacket and bow tie, but he looks older, sophisticated, a devastatingly handsome roué with licentious intent.
Oh, yawn, another Byronic hero reference. Will she stop with this already? Jeez!
It’s an absolutely breathtaking view, the twinkling lights of Seattle in the distance and the orange, dusky calm of the bay reflecting the opal sky. Wow. It’s so calm and peaceful.
And here she tries to emulate Stephenie Meyer’s descriptions. This is no way close, and there is no cigar for you, E. L. Sorry!
And that’s a wrap for today. See you later this week!