“You're nothing but a sick child molester, and if were up to me, I'd toss you into the seventh circle of hell and walk away smiling. Now get out of my way- or do I have to make you?”

“... I'm laughing at your audacity, Mrs. Lincoln. Christian and I have nothing to do with you. And if I do leave him and you come looking for me, I'll be waiting - don't doubt it. And maybe I'll give you a taste of your own medicine on behalf of the fifteen-year-old child you molested and propably fucked-up even more than he already was.”

“This is me, Ana. All of me...and I'm all yours. What do I have to do to make you realize that? To make you see that I want you any way I can get you. That I love you.”

“Are you on your own?""No. There are six people staring at me right now wondering who the hell i'm talking to."shit..."Really?" I gasp, panicked."Yes. Really. My girlfriend," he announces away from the phone.holy cow! "They probably all thought you were gay, you know.”

“I thought I'd broken you.""Broken? Me? Oh no, Ana. Just the opposite."He reaches out and takes my hand. "You're my lifeline'" he whispers.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?" I blurt out. Holy crap--I just said that out loud?His lips quirk up in a half-smile, and he looks down at me."No, Anastasia. I don't do the girlfriend thing," he says softly.”

“This way,” he murmurs and abruptly is inside me once more, but he doesn’t start his usual punishing rhythm straight away. He leans over, releases my hands, and pulls me upright so I am practically sitting on him. His hands move up to my breasts, and he palms them both, tugging gently on my nipples. I groan, tossing my head back against his shoulder. He nuzzles my neck, biting down, as he flexes his hips, deliciously slowly, filling me again and again. “Do you know how much you mean to me?” he breathes against my ear. “No,” I gasp.He smiles against my neck, and his fingers curl around my jaw and throat, holding me fast for a moment. “Yes, you do. I’m not going to let you go.” I groan as he picks up speed. “You are mine, Anastasia.” “Yes, yours,” I pant. “I take care of what’s mine,” he hisses and bites my ear.”