“You know,” Gisella laughed as his lips ran along the side of her neck, “Despite having known you for so long, I don’t actually… “ She emphasised her next words, “know you.”
“Of course you know me,” Ryre said, the look on his face that of blasphemy.
“I mean I don’t know specific things about you.”
“What would you like to know?”
He indulged her curiosity and allowed her to ask all sorts of things that played across her mind and she deemed right for her to know. He wasn’t tired of it or became restless, and he gave into each and every whim she had.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
Gisella gasped. “You’re not that much older than I am!”
“I’m not? How old are you?” Ryre asked as he gave her a lopsided smile.
“I’m twenty-one, though I suppose… from the stories I’ve heard, you’ll be twenty-four for a very, very long time.” She ran her fingers up and down his arms and interlaced their fingers together. There Ryre pulled her closer to him and lay a kiss onto the top of her head.
