Anne Rice - v1, Lasher

The sofa was damask the dim lights were electric and

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Unformatted text preview: then reached between his legs. Ah, he was ready! His arms locked around her, and he gave some soft complaining sound that was very like him, like it's just too late now, or something, or God forgive me. She could all but hear the words. She pulled him down on top of her, sinking deep into the sofa, smelling dust, as the waltz surged and the soprano sang on. She stretched out beneath him as he rose up, protectively, and then she felt his hand, trembling slightly in a beguiling fashion, as it ripped up the flannel and felt her naked belly and then her naked thigh. "You know what else is there," she whispered, and she pulled him down hard again. But his hand went before him, pushing gently into her, awakening her, rather like setting off a burglar alarm, and she felt her own juices slipping between her legs. "Come on, I can't hold back," she said, feeling the heat flood her face. "Give it to me." It probably sounded savage, but she couldn't play little girl a moment mo...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.

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