Ryan Gosling Feet 소설 & 이야기

It was taken inside Zachary's car. She had intentionally framed the shot to show his left hand without a wedding ring. But I still recognized that it was Zachary instantly. A faint scar ran across his left index finger—a mark from the time he tried cooking for me when he was 22 years old and cut himself. I felt so bad for him that I bought countless scar creams, but he refused to use them. He told me it was a symbol of his love for me, and it was something he'd tell our future child about one day.

I roll my eyes at his amused expression. "Nope." I ignore him, massaging my ankles with my hands. "Huh... My ankles hurt." I don't think I will be able to make it to the apartment in this condition. "Then take it off." Grayson scowl. "I was just joking." He says when I pull off the heels, hoping on one feet as I take off the other. Placing my feet back on the cold, hard ground, I stretch my toes. "I feel better already." I smile.

He fucked me like a man possessed, thick shaft stretching me obscenely wide, pounding deep and relentless until I was sobbing and coming around him over and over. Even completely feral, he felt fucking incredible. I bit down hard and shook the image out of my head. Survival first. The nausea passed. I clutched the edge of his suit jacket. His gaze traveled down my face and stopped at my feet. The back of my right heel had been rubbed raw by my shoe, and blood was seeping into the leather. Grayson pulled out his phone and called Ryan, his right-hand. "Bring a pair of size five flats to the parlor. Soft soles. Three minutes."