He was present. Fully, specifically present — on the beach, in the dark, with Preet. His attention the specific, total attention of someone who has found something worth paying full attention to and is not interested in dividing it.
This, Celia thought, was the most damaging thing. Not the strength. Not the staying power. Not the cock that had made Gia say 'gorgeous monster' before she could stop herself.
The attention.
The specific, complete, undivided quality of someone who wanted what they were doing and was showing it.
He moved her again.
Turned her. His hands at her waist, lifting, rotating — the specific, casual ease of it — setting her up on her hands and knees on the wet sand with the ocean ten feet behind her.
Doggy style.
