The aroma of fresh brewed coffee and something that smelled delicious drifted into the bedroom from the kitchen below.I groggily got out of bed, grabb...d a robe, and headed downstairs as I tried to finish waking up. When I arrived, I saw Angela curled up on the window seat, sipping a cup of coffee and staring outside.When she heard me enter the kitchen, she turned quickly and tried to put on a smile."Good Morning, Master!" she said when she saw me.I could tell that she had been crying by the. You need time to think on it and I need time too." Sweetie, I don't need time. I made my decision over ten years ago," I said. But, before I could say anything else, she interrupted."I know, but that was then. This is now, and I need some time now. Please give me the time I need and let me call you when I'm ready. Okay?"I sighed and, hedging a bit on the truth, said, "Okay, Sweetie. I am worried about you, not knowing where you are, and not knowing exactly when I will see you again." I know,. I know,” her big brown eyes full of understanding and care.We must have stayed paired like this for a long time before, with a kiss, Grace moved things on. “Fuck me, Pete, honey. Fuck me like you want to. I want to feel you take me. I want to feel you riding me, slamming me into the bed and making me cum all over you. And then I want to feel you shoot your seed into my womb as we cum together.”I marveled at her intoxicating mix of sweetness and temptress, knowing at that moment I was besotted. Maybe I wouldn’t have wanted it with them, but it would have been nice to be asked. I didn’t have any plans or expectations with you. You were just a john like the rest of my clients. Until you fucking weren’t, okay?“You did the one thing that none of us ever expect ... ever. This kinda thing doesn’t happen to us in real-life. Fuck Julia Roberts and Richard Gere and all that jazz. Pretty Woman doesn’t happen to us for real. Period. And if it does, it happens to fucking white girls. Gringas. It.