I think about his forearms. I think about his handwriting in that fine point blue ink. I think about his truck even. I think about his mouth on me, on...my lips, on my neck, on my breasts and on my pussy. I think about him inside me. I think about his hand on my throat. I think about his palm coming down hard on my ass. I think of him holding me down and taking me. I’ve been thinking about him since I sealed my panties in that envelope. I am thinking of him when he doesn’t ring my doorbell but. In fact, I was kind of looking forward to finally feeling the hammer descend. Anything was better than the dreadful anticipation I had been under.Once again, Pick kept us waiting by Eunice's desk. My anxiety level was still sky-high, but being resigned to hearing the bad news made the wait easier. Eddie Whitehead was slouched in the chair next to me with his eyes closed, seemingly asleep. If it had been anybody else, I would have assumed he was listening to his own soundtrack in his head; with. More

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