Chapter One

Presley

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As I take the call I’ve been waiting six months for, the people around me carry on with their lives as mine stands still.  It’s funny how that happens.  How, in the blink of an eye, your life can change so completely and yet everyone else is unaware. If they were to look at you, they wouldn’t know anything had changed.

I’m in the middle of running a photography shoot, and I’ve got people everywhere.  In amongst the noise and chaos, my world is being tilted, and I’m struggling to focus on what’s being said.

“Presley, are you listening to me?”

His question pulls me back into the conversation.  “It’s too late now, Lennon.  I needed you to say this to me six months ago.”

He sighs and it’s as familiar as an old cardigan.  It’s the same sigh he’s used on me numerous times throughout our marriage, the sigh that tells me how frustrated he is with whatever I am asking of him.  “How can it be too late?  We’ve been married for three years, that’s not something you just give up on.  I want you back, and I’ll do anything to make that happen.”

The pain his words inflict tears another hole in my heart.  “The reason it’s too late is because you should have been willing to do anything to make our marriage work while we were in it or when I told you there was a problem.  But you didn’t.  You were too busy with your work to care about me and telling me six months later is not enough.  You need to accept this is over and move on.”

“That’s not gonna happen, baby.  You’re mine and I’m coming home to show you how wrong I was.”

“You’re coming back to Australia?”

“That’s what I just said.  I’ll be there next week.  Once we finish up with the tour.”

Now it’s my turn to sigh.  He just doesn’t get it.  “And that’s why we’ll never work,” I say softly.

I know him so well I can almost hear his brain thinking and I can picture his brows pulled together in confusion as he asks, “Why?”

“Because if you truly loved me and wanted me back, you wouldn’t be waiting for the bloody tour to end.”  I take a breath before adding, “Don’t come back, Lennon.  I don’t want to see you.”  I bite my lip as I prepare to end the call. 

Darla, my assistant, is watching me closely, and she raises her brows, questioning if I’m okay.  She knows the last thing I need on this shoot is for my concentration to be challenged.  And she can probably tell from my body language and facial expressions that’s exactly what’s happening.  She’s worked with me for a long time and been my friend for longer. She knows me well.  I nod at her to indicate I’ll be okay, because I will be.  This isn’t the first time my husband has screwed with my concentration.  I’m well versed in dealing with it and getting through my work, in spite of it.

Lennon’s patience gives way.  I’m surprised he’s lasted this long with that short fuse of his.  “Presley, you don’t know what you want half the time,” he snaps. “We’re meant to be, and you’ll see that when I get there.”

“Goodbye, Lennon,” I say and hang up because otherwise we could be going back and forth all day.  He just doesn’t listen.  I knew it while we were together, but since we broke up, it’s become even clearer to me.

Darla approaches.  “You okay, boss?”

“That was Lennon,” I say. 

Her eyes widen.  “What did he want?”

“Apparently, after all this time, he’s decided he wants me back.  Says he’s coming home in a week or so to show me how much.”

“That bloody asshole!”  She’s never been a huge fan, not after she saw the way he always put our marriage second to his career.

“I feel like this truly is the end now, you know?”  I don’t know why I feel sad about this all of a sudden.  I’ve spent the last six months trying to get over him, and I’ve started moving on, but after that conversation, it feels more final.  I look at Darla with resignation.  “I don’t know, maybe deep down I still hoped he’d come and fight for me, but what he’s doing doesn’t feel like enough.  Does that sound stupid?”

She madly shakes her head.  “No, it doesn’t, and you’re right... this is all too little, too late.”

I slowly nod.  “Yeah, it is.”

We stand in silence for a moment, both lost in thought about the demise of my marriage.  Eventually, Darla claps her hands together.  “Okay, back to work.  We’re going to get this shoot finished and then we’re gonna go out and get drunk.”

I shake my head and grin mischievously at her.  “No, you might be going to get drunk... I’m going to get laid.”

Laughing, she agrees, “Yes, you are.  And I might just do that, too.”

***

I finish applying lipstick to my lips, place it back in my purse, and then run my fingers through my long, blonde hair, messing it up as I go.  The straight hair trend shits me to tears; give me messy, wild hair any day over that perfect, boring look.  Stepping back from the mirror, I assess my outfit for tonight; skintight black leather pants, heels, and a slinky red sleeveless top.  I’ve finished it off with an assortment of bracelets and my silver Tiffany heart tag necklace.  Yeah, I grin, tonight I’m going to score.

“Presley, babe, you made it.”

I divert my attention from the mirror to the voice behind me.  Shit, I’d forgotten she’d be here tonight.  Jade Garcia.  Supermodel.  Shallow bitch from hell.  God, give me strength.

Before I can reply, her food deprived friend interrupts.  “You’re the photographer from today’s shoot, aren’t you?”

Full points to the vapid supermodel wannabe.  I bite my tongue on so many witty remarks and instead, simply reply, “Yes.”  Well, okay, perhaps they weren’t witty, so much as catty.  I can be one of the cattiest bitches you’ll ever meet.  That could be why I don’t have a lot of friends.  That and the fact that I truly dislike most people I meet.

Jade starts gushing to her friend.  “Presley is one of the best photographers I’ve ever worked with.  They had to pay a small fortune to get her to work on this shoot.”

I tune her out; I’ve heard it all before, and I’m over it.  I’m also over working with models and clients with no imagination.  This shoot bored me to fucking tears, and I won’t be in a hurry to work with them again. 

“I’ve got to meet another friend, Jade.  I’ll see you around,” I say as I begin to make my way out of the ladies’ room.

She raises her eyebrows.  “A Valentine’s date?”

“God, no!”

“You don’t like Valentine’s Day?”

“What’s there to like?  A commercialised day that puts pressure on people to buy shit that supposedly proves how much they love their partner.  I’ve never celebrated it and don’t ever plan to,” I reply, noting her stunned expression.

“Wow.  I’ve never met a woman who doesn’t love Valentine’s Day.”  Her previous awe of me has been replaced with disdain.  If I’d known it would be this easy to change her opinion of me, I would have shared my thoughts earlier.

I shrug.  “Well, now you have.  Love’s an everyday experience; it’s something shown in the mundane things you do for your partner.  It’s not found in a fucking overpriced bunch of flowers picked up on the way home from work because you know if you don’t get them that day, of all days, your life won’t be worth living.”

Jade’s eyes are glazing over; I probably lost her at mundane.

“I’ll catch you later,” I say as I push open the door and exit the room, not waiting for her response.  With a bit of luck, I’ll never have to see her again.

The cool air of the club hits my face and I welcome it after the heated stuffiness of the crowded ladies’ room.  It’s Friday night and pumping in here.  Everyone is celebrating the end of the work week.  I’m celebrating the beginning of my holidays.  Three months of no work.  Three months of doing whatever the hell I want.  Bliss.

I make my way to the bar and order a bourbon and Coke.  After slamming it down in two gulps, I motion to the bartender to pour me another.

“Hard day, sweetheart?”

Turning to see who is speaking to me, I am momentarily speechless while I take in piercing blue eyes and gorgeous features.  Whoever this man is, he has the ability to turn me on just by being near me because I am turned way the fuck on right now.  As electricity sparks through me, I imagine running my hands through his dark hair and laying kisses along that chiseled jaw.  Need and desire swirl together and I decide that he will be mine tonight.

“Hard week, more like it,” I answer him just as the bartender brings me another drink.  Before I can get cash out of my purse to pay for the drink, the guy lifts his chin at the bartender, who nods and walks away without taking payment.  I’m still trying to find cash in my purse and the guy puts his hand over mine, stilling it.

“Why was your week so bad?” he asks, his hand still on mine.

I move my hand away.  “Thanks for the drink.”

He flashes me a smile that shoots more electricity through me.  “You’re very welcome.  Now tell me about your week.”

I sigh.  “I’d rather not talk about it.  Let’s just say that dealing with pretentious, self-centred people for twelve hours a day, five days in a row, is enough to make me consider moving in with the Amish and adopting their way of life.”

He chuckles.  “I hear you.  It sounds like we’ve been dealing with similar people all week.”

I cock my eyebrow.  “Oh, no.  I fucking win this one, dude.  I’ve been working with models who couldn’t work out their left from their right half the time.”

He nods, another smile forms on his face that would melt my panties if they weren’t already melted.  “You win.  I could think of nothing worse than working with models.”

My gaze sweeps over him, taking in his jeans and black t-shirt that both hug his body.  He’s rocking muscles I am fighting not to drool over; muscles I need to hold my hands back from because all they want to do is touch.  Those muscles are covered in tats, and I squint to try and read what one of them says.  It looks like a quote written in cursive on his forearm, but I struggle to work out what it says.

He sees me looking and holds his arm out as he tells me what it says.  “Fate loves the fearless.”

I grab hold of his arm and position it so I can read it better.  The moment I touch him, I feel it, and I know he feels it, too, because his eyes show it.  There’s an undeniable spark between us, and as soon as it hits me, my body lights up at the thought of sleeping with him. 

As I let go of him, he leans his face close to mine and asks, “You feel that?”

Not letting go of his eyes, I nod.  The slow burn of desire is eliciting a hunger in me I haven’t felt for a long time.  And I sense he wants me just as much as I want him.  “I do,” I finally answer him, slightly breathless.

The beat of the music surrounds us, and the crowd threatens to drown us, but I am lost to the moment and almost unaware of everything else as we search each other’s eyes.  I’m sure I detect warmth and kindness in his.  Odd that I’m getting all that when I’ve just met him, but I would swear it on a bible. 

He slowly moves his face away from mine and drinks some of his drink.  As he places the glass back on the bar, he says, “I’m Jett.”

“Presley.”

A smile tugs at his lips.  “Your parents are Elvis fans?” 

“My mother is and my father is blinded by love.  She could have called me Elvis and he wouldn’t have blinked.”

This inspires a laugh out of him.  “Your parents are still happily married?”

“Yeah, go figure.  How many marriages do you know of that are still going strong after thirty years?”

His eyes twinkle.  “My parents are still happy after thirty-five years.  I guess you and I are like some weird science experiment.  It kinda sucks, really.”

Frowning, I ask, “Why?”

He throws the rest of his drink back, his eyes still twinkling.  “When you don’t come from a fucked-up family, you can hardly blame your issues on your parents, can you?  Nope, you and me, we have to own our fucking issues.”

I burst out laughing.  “You are so right.  Shit, pass me my drink, I can’t cope with this knowledge.”

Shaking his head, he holds my drink away from me.  “Bad idea, sweetheart.  You have no one to blame your alcoholism on except yourself.  I suggest you give up alcohol straight away and find a new vice that’s not as socially unacceptable as alcohol addiction.”

Oh, this is fun.  I raise my eyebrows.  “What do you suggest?”

He doesn’t even hesitate.  “Sex addiction.  Take that shit up.  Much easier to hide from public view.  And a lot more fucking fun than dealing with hangovers.”

“I wouldn’t know the first thing about taking that up.  You think you could help me with that?”

He pulls a face like it’s the hardest question he’s ever been asked.  Nodding, he says, “Sure.  You want to get started now?”

My core clenches at the thought, and I lean into him and say, “You’ve no idea how much I want to get started on that now, Jett.”

He sucks in a breath, and his hand curls around my neck.  “You sure?  Because once I’m finished with you, you’re going to have an addiction that will be hard to kick.”

“I’m more than sure.  But if my newfound addiction gets out of hand, you might have to step up and help me break it.”

“Oh baby, I can’t think of one good reason to break that kind of addiction.  No, I’ll just step up and feed it.  Can’t have you fighting cravings, can we?”

Now it’s my turn to suck in a breath.  “Jett, it’s fun to stand here and flirt with you, but I’ve gotta say, I’d rather you take me back to my hotel and fuck me.”

He grins.  “I thought you’d never ask.”

Grabbing my hand, he begins to lead me away from the bar but I pull back and stop him.  When he gives me a questioning look, I say, “I need to let my friend know I’m leaving.”

“Sure.”

I dial Darla.  She’s in this club somewhere, but I haven’t seen her for a good hour.  A couple of moments later, after I’ve spoken to her, Jett and I leave the club.  I’m barely containing myself; I haven’t been this excited for sex in a long time.

***

Thank god the hotel I’m staying at is close because Jett can’t keep his hands off me and I’m about to explode with desire.  We stumble through the door to my room and he pushes me up against the wall before pressing his lips to mine in a searing kiss.  He tastes so good.  I could spend hours devouring his lips and mouth.  When his tongue tangles with mine, I moan and thread my hands through his hair.  He groans and grinds his erection against me.

He breaks our kiss and cradles my face with his hands.  His eyes search mine, and he murmurs, “Fuck, you’re beautiful.  How the hell are you not already taken?”

I run my finger over his lips.  “Maybe I’m too much of a handful for just one man.”

“Perhaps whoever tried wasn’t enough of a man to know how to handle you right.”

I grin at him and pull his face back to mine.  Brushing my lips over his, I say, “I get the feeling you’re a smooth talker, Jett.”

A laugh escapes his mouth, and his eyes crinkle as he smiles.  “I’ve been accused of that before, sweetheart, but don’t let it turn you off.”  He moves to whisper in my ear.  “I’d really like to help get you started on your new addiction.”

As he moves his face back away from mine, I say, “I don’t give a fuck if you’re a smooth talker.  Sweet-talk me all you like, so long as you back it up with an orgasm or two.”

He quirks an eyebrow.  “Only two?”

“Well, feel free to give me more.  I won’t complain.”  I give him a wink and then reach for his belt and undo it.  A moment later, I’ve got his jeans undone and am stroking his cock while watching his eyes close with pleasure.

“Fuck...feels good,” he groans.

I bend and take him in my mouth.  This man is well endowed, and I’m consumed with lust.  Usually I like to draw sex out, make it last, but tonight I’m rushing to the finish line.  I need him inside me.  Now. 

As my desire takes over, I stand, push his jeans down and rip his shirt off.  His eyes snap open as he kicks his jeans to the side.  “Someone’s eager,” he murmurs.

I’m not even slowing down.  My top is off faster than he can blink, and my shoes and pants follow soon after.  And then I’m standing before him in my underwear, almost panting with need.  I trail my fingers down his chest, taking in the tattoos covering his body.  There’s hardly an inch of him not tattooed, and as much as I’d love to stand here discovering what they all are, I don’t have time for that tonight.  No, tonight is all about getting as many orgasms out of him as possible.  “We’re in for a long night,” I promise.

“I’m down with that.”

“I thought you might be.”

He reaches out and slips his hand inside my bra, pushing the cup aside so my breast is exposed.  His thumb rubs my nipple, and a moment later, his mouth is on me, sucking, licking and gently biting.  As he pushes the other cup out of the way so he is holding both my breasts, he asks, “You know what they call women with tits like yours?”

“No, enlighten me.”

Looking up at me, he says, “Dangerous.”

“Really?  That’s the best you’ve got?”

Straightening so his face is close to mine, he slides one hand around my neck and grips me there while his other hand cups my cheek and his thumb rubs over my lips.  He brings his lips to mine and lightly kisses me.  When he speaks, his voice is growly and sends delicious sensations to my core.  “Really.  Tits like these have been known to make a man do stupid things.  We lose all fucking reason when we see them, and to hold and taste them, well fuck, that just sends us over the edge, sweetheart.”  He pauses and his eyes hold mine for a moment.  They’re speaking to me, silently.  They’re flashing desire and telling me how much he wants me.  “Pretty fucking dangerous,” he adds before leaning in to kiss me again.

I’m consumed by his kiss and his need.  I have the same need.  As he kisses me, I push his boxers down and then move my hands to take my panties off, but he has other ideas, and his hands are on mine, stopping them.  I break the kiss and give him a questioning look.  “You don’t want them off?”

“I do, but I will have that honour,” he answers me and then hooks his fingers in my panties and begins to slowly pull them down.

I watch in pleasure as he begins to lay kisses down my body and then kneel in front of me.  He removes my panties and then stills, taking me in.  His eyes on my pussy do amazing things to me, and I tingle with anticipation.  If his eyes can do that, I know I’m in for a hell of a treat when he gives me his mouth. 

When he takes his first taste of me, I sway a little, and his strong hands grip my legs, steadying me.  He holds me as he runs his tongue from one end of my pussy to the other, and it’s a good thing he does because I’m experiencing a heady rush of hunger.  I’m not sure my legs would hold me up without his help.  And then he pushes his tongue inside and my mind explodes with light and my body pulses with ecstasy.

I grip his hair and moan.  Wild lust courses through me.  I can hardly hold myself together as he works his magic with his tongue, and I know it won’t take long for him to bring me to orgasm.  His hands glide up my legs to hold my ass, and as he grips me there, it’s almost like he’s trying to pull me closer to him.  It’s not possible, though; Jett has his face buried in my pussy as deep as he can.  He’s got talents a woman can only dream of and I’m disappointed this will only be a one-night stand.  I’d like to sample these talents again. 

When he stops what he’s doing, I want to push his face back to me.  I’m about to beg him to keep going when he asks, “Do you have any idea how fucking good you taste?”

“No, but I’ll believe you so long as you keep tasting me.”

His eyes remain on mine as he begins to massage my clit with his finger.  “I wasn’t sure if you might prefer my finger to my tongue.”

Oh good god, he’s going to drive me insane with lust.  “That’s a hard choice.  Maybe you should decide.”

His eyes sparkle with mischievous delight.  “Mmmm.... let me see.”  His finger is inside me a second later, and I close my eyes as I let the sensations wash over me.  “Feel good?” he asks.

I nod because seriously, I can’t even form a thought at this point, let alone a word.

“Good,” he murmurs, and then he replaces his finger with his tongue.

“Fuck...Jett...don’t fucking stop,” I moan, my eyes still closed, my hand gripping his hair.

And then he takes me on a ride I never want to get off.  His tongue and his fingers work together to bring me to orgasm.  When it hits, I realise I’ve been missing something in my life.  Jett gives me an orgasm like I’ve never had, and I scream his name as I shatter into a million fucking pieces of bliss.

My legs give way again, and he swiftly moves to stand up and hold me.  As his arms go around me, his lips crash down on mine, and he kisses me into blissful oblivion.  I am completely consumed with this man; tonight, he is owning my mind and body in a way no man ever has.  And we’ve only just gotten started.

When he ends the kiss, I open my eyes to look into his.  He’s watching me with a look I can’t quite put my finger on but I ignore it and say, “You think my tits are dangerous?  I think your mouth is.”

He laughs and murmurs, “Wait till you have my cock, sweetheart.  I promised you an addiction you’ll struggle to break, and I always keep my promises.”

“Can’t wait,” I whisper, the effects of my orgasm still messing with my ability to form thoughts.

“Neither can I,” he says, letting me go.  His eyes wander down to my bra, and he reaches behind me and flicks it undone in one easy movement.  “I’m not sure one night with these tits will be enough,” he says as he slides my bra off.  He lets it drop to the floor and bends to kiss my breasts again.  The passion he kisses them with tells me he really can’t get enough and that turns me on even more than I already am.

I reach for his cock and grasp it firmly before I begin to move my hand up and down his hard length.  His breathing picks up and he stops what he’s doing and straightens.  Smiling at him, I bend to take his cock in my mouth. 

The minute I wrap my lips around him, his hand lands on my head and he groans.  “Fuck, Presley...” 

And then my phone rings.

I ignore it and keep sucking him.  No way am I letting anyone interrupt us tonight. 

“You wanna get that?” he asks, although I can tell he doesn’t want me to.

I swirl my tongue over him, and he sucks in a breath.  “No.  Whoever it is can wait ‘cause I’ve got more important things to do.”

“Thank Christ,” he mutters as his eyes flutter shut.

My phone stops ringing but then starts again.

Bloody hell.

We both continue to ignore it, but when it rings a fourth time, I swear and let him go.  “Sorry, I’ll tell them to fuck off and be right back.”

He rakes his hand through his hair, frustrated, and smacks me on the ass.  “Hurry up, my dick fucking needs your mouth.”

I love his dirty talk and answer my phone begrudgingly.  “What?” I snap without even looking to see who it is.

“I’ve hurt my fucking ankle.”  It’s Darla.  Shit.  I can tell from her voice she’s in a great deal of pain.

“Where are you, hon?” 

“I’m in my hotel room, just got back, but I tripped in the bloody gutter and twisted it.  Are you able to come to my room and check it out?  I don’t think it’s broken, but I need a second opinion.”

My gaze shifts to Jett’s hard on.  Fuck. 

He catches my gaze and gives me a questioning look.  I frown and give my attention back to Darla.  “Sure, I’ll be there in a minute.”

She sighs.  “Thanks, babe.”

“Of course,” I say and hang up.  There’s no way I can let my friend down in her hour of need.  She’s been there for me every step of the way through my marriage break-up, and although I have an aching need for Jett to fuck me, Darla always comes first.

“You’re leaving?” he asks, but there’s no anger there.

“Yeah, sorry.  My friend’s twisted her ankle, and I want to make sure she hasn’t broken it.”  The regret is clear in my voice.

“Shit,” he says and begins to get dressed.  “I’ll come with you.”

“What?”

“I’ll organise for someone to pick her up and take her to the hospital so you don’t have to worry about it.  You can just take care of her while I sort this out for you.”

Mind blown.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” I murmur, surprised at his offer.  I’m more surprised at the way he’s handling this, though.  If I’d stopped mid blow job with my ex to run off and check on a twisted ankle, he’d have been pissed and wouldn’t have hesitated to let me know.

“No worries.” 

We get dressed and then head to Darla’s room.  As we wait for her to answer her door, I say, “Sorry about this.”

He grins.  “It’s all good, but you owe me and I’ll be collecting.”

Hell yes.  I return his grin.  “I like the way you think.”

Before he can say anything else, Darla answers the door and I take in her distressed state.  Mascara is running down her cheeks, along with tears.  Darla never cries so I know this is bad.  I take one look at her ankle and suspect she’s broken it.  “Shit, Darla, that looks nasty.”  I usher her to a chair and then dial down to the front desk and request for ice to be brought up to her room.

I’m so engrossed in helping her, I forget to introduce Jett so he does it for me.  “Hi, I’m Jett.”

She smiles through her tears.  “Goddamn, you scored well,” she says to me with a wink.

Jett laughs, not even slightly thrown by her remark.  I get the feeling he’s heard this before.  “It’s good to - ”

Darla cuts him off.  Her eyes have widened and she looks like she’s about to hyperventilate.  “Oh my god, you’re Jett fucking Vaughn!”

“Who?” I ask, taking in her excitement and his blank look.

She’s excited, but the pain has taken over again, and she can’t answer me, so I look at Jett who is watching me with another look I can’t read.  Usually I’m good at reading people, but this is the second time tonight I’ve not been able to read him. 

He scrubs a hand over his face.  “You didn’t know, did you?”

My brows knit.  “Know what?  I have no idea what either of you are talking about.”

“Fuck,” he mutters.

“Are you going to tell me?”  I ask, wishing one of them would fill me in.

Darla’s pain subsides enough for her to answer me.  “He’s the lead singer of Crave.”  That means nothing to me, and when she realises that, she exclaims, “God, Presley, how can you not know who Crave is?  They’re one of the best known rock bands in the world.  You of all people should know who they are.”

Jett steps in.  “Not everyone has heard of us, Darla.  I do occasionally find someone who doesn’t know me.”

She rolls her eyes.  “Well, now you’re just being humble.  Everyone knows who you are.”  She gives me a pointed stare.  “Except Presley which is odd because - ”

I cut her off.  “I don’t know every rock star in the world.”  I give her a dirty look and then look at Jett.  “Sorry.”

He shakes his head.  “No, I loved that you didn’t know.”

I send him a wicked grin.  “I’m not into rock stars so we can just pretend I don’t know.”

He chuckles.  “You’re on.”  And then his phone rings and he turns away to take the call.

Turning my attention back to Darla, I bend down and ask, “How are you feeling, hon?”

Her face is etched with pain.  “I’ve never been in so much pain.  Do you think it’s broken?”

“I have no clue.  Jett’s organising a car to come pick you up and take you to the hospital.”

She looks at him in awe and then gives me a dreamy grin.  “He’s got a good reputation, you know.  Goes through women, apparently, but a nice guy regardless.  It’s so nice of him to do this for me.”

“Oh god, you know that most of the shit you hear in the press is crap so I don’t know why you listen to that rubbish.”

She shrugs.  “It’s Jett Vaughn, babe.  I’ve been following him for years.  I can’t believe I’ve met him, but bloody hell, why did it have to be when I look like shit?”  She pauses before her eyes light up again and she adds, “Fuck, I can’t believe he’s your one-night stand.”

I laugh and wink at her.  “Yeah, he’s the guy I had my lips wrapped around when you rang.”

“How the hell did you get so lucky?”

I’m just about to answer her when Jett comes back.  “Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but I’ve got a car waiting downstairs for us.”  He looks at Darla.  “I’ll carry you down if you’d like.”

I’m sure she’s about to burst from either pain or excitement and I would bet good money on the latter. 

She’s tiny, and he easily carries her to the car.  Me?  I’m still in shock this man gave up a blow job to take my friend to the hospital.