She'd rather slap his ass with the morning paper. With the cool air of an empty Empire wafting across her overheated navel, there's no saving that skirt, is there? It was more than her being partial to the color, the texture. It was a whole look. People knew her by it.

Bella's cunt throbs during the reprieve. He doesn't suffer alone. "You won't magic it back together, though, you damn randy bastard." Giving up on trying to intimidate him with a scowl, she falls back and pulls a face at the ceiling.