Selena prances happily, as though nothing had happened, out the kitchen and to the front door.
He lets out the tiniest little sound, a groan of relief when she rubs her tight little butt right to the edge of his right hip, almost breaking the contact at last— then she stops and starts sliding right back again.
I go running on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays.
It's then that I notice the little purple purse still sitting on the corner of the dresser table.
I see the electric shock of the sensation shoot up her body, hitting her face and making it go suddenly and terrifyingly blank.
I want this so bad.