She was on the ground floor, in the living room. It wasn't exactly the best place to be in, since the walls of the room were covered with old paintings of men with harrowing looks in their eyes, eyes that seemed to be moving. But she couldn't move. The thought of being anywhere, closer to the attic made her faint. Ella was sitting on the couch and listening to her favourite song, trying not to hear the howling wind and the baying of distant dogs outside. The volume was set almost unbearably loud because she knew that all scary movies started with the main character hearing footsteps or creaking from the attic. She pretended to read a magazine and hum along with the music but she couldn't even deceive herself enough to get her mind off from her loneliness and helplessness. Suddenly, and it all seemed to happen at the same time, the music stopped and the clock struck twelve. As Ella had been dreading the room became silent for a minute. She couldn't force herself to move
I started to step around him, heading for the driver's side. He might have let me pass if I hadn't wobbled slightly. Then again, he might not have. His arm created an inescapable snare around my waist. "Bella, I've already expended a great deal of personal effort at this point to keep you alive. I'm not about to let you behind the wheel of a vehicle when you can't even walk straight. Besides, friends don't let friends drive drunk," he quoted with a chuckle. I could smell the unbearably sweet fragrance coming off his chest. "Drunk?" I objected. "You're intoxicated by my very presence." He was grinning that playful smirk again. "I can't argue with that," I sighed. There was no way around it; I couldn't resist him in anything. I held the key high and dropped it, watching his hand flash like lightning to catch it soundlessly. "Take it easy -- my truck is a senior citizen." "Very sensible," he approved. "And are you not affected at all?" I asked, irked. "By my presence?"
It is hard to resist another person's pain-body that is determined to draw you into a reaction. Instinctively it knows your weakest, most vulnerable points. If it doesn't succeed the first time, it will try again and again. It is raw emotion looking for more emotion. The other person's pain-body wants to awaken yours so that both pain-bodies can mutually energize each other. Many relationships go through violent and destructive pain-body episodes at regular intervals. It is almost unbearably painful for a young child to have to witness the emotional violence of their parents' pain-bodies, and yet that is the fate of millions of children all over the world, the nightmare of their daily existence. That is also one of the main ways in which the human pain-body is passed on from generation to generation. After each episode, the partners make up, and there is an interval of relative peace, to the limited extent that the ego allows it.
my skin. My gaze darted frantically to the clock on the cable box. "Gideon, no." His head lifted and he looked at me with stormy blue eyes. "It's insane, I know. I don't-I can't explain it, Eva, but I have to make you come. I've been thinking about it constantly for days now." One of his hands pushed between my legs. They fell open shamelessly, my body so aroused I was flushed and almost feverish. His other hand continued to plump my breasts, making them heavy and unbearably sensitive. "You're wet for me," he murmured, his gaze sliding down my body to where he was parting me with his fingers. "You're beautiful here, too. Plush and pink. So soft. You didn't wax today, did you?" I shook my head. "Thank God. I don't think I would've made it ten minutes without touching you, let alone ten hours." He slid one finger carefully into me. My eyes closed against the unbearable vulnerability of being spread out naked and fingered
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