Magda Alexander, Storm Damages Quotes
An image pops into my head of Gabriel Storm in my bed, his golden skin sheened with sweat while I ride him to paradise. Oh. My. God. Where did that come from? I’ve sworn to stay away from men.
His rough-pad fingers travel down my throat, across my collarbone, down the swell of my chest, a simple caress which has me quaking inside. My flesh aches for him, burns for his touch.
His lips follow a trail from my mouth to my jaw, down to my throat. As he nuzzles, he suckles, nips my skin before circling back to my mouth to taste me, ravage me, own me.