Kayla Cumsalot 1844-332-2639 Ext 357
There are questions a girl should ask before she gets into a car with a stranger; magnetic connection or not. Like, maybe his fucking name! Did I ask him? Nope, sure the fuck didn’t. His warm hand pushed me forward, and as if I were the puppet and he was the master, my feet obeyed. We weaved through the bar and out into the cool spring evening. The street was busy, but I was safe, I told myself as we moved down the sidewalk and walked towards his car.
He didn’t speak, but the scent of his aftershave made my nose arch toward his neck. I was so drawn to him that the warning bells clanging in my brain did nothing to stop me when he pulled open the passenger door, and I slipped inside. He leaned into the car and drew the seat belt between my breasts to strap me in. His playful blue eyes met mine, and he purred, “Safety first.”
