Chapter 78 Torture

• The air in the suite was thick with the cloying smell of bacon grease, champagne, and the already spent lust.
• Quin was sitting on the cold metal of the cart, the edge of it digging into her stomach, sticky trails of the maple syrup drying on her legs and pulling her skin with every breath.
• Douglas did not give her a chance to recuperate, to comprehend the damage to her body and the sticky mess on them. He grabbed her wrist, pressing his fingers into her bones, and pulled her up, nearly making her stumble.