Los Angeles Hyatt Hotel, a rather ordinary sedan drove into the underground parking garage. Blake Lively took out her cellphone, glanced at the room number Martin had sent, exited the car, entered the private elevator area, and took the elevator to the top floor.
The double elevator doors slid open to the sides, and Blake immediately spotted her male god.
She had just rushed back to Los Angeles from outside the city, and she couldn't wait to get here.
Martin was standing at the doorstep, smiling at her.
"Ah—"
Blake screamed, and like a cannonball shot from its chamber, she hurled herself toward him.
Their bodies collided, with her feet even lifting into the air.
Martin held her tight, shouldered her up, and carried her into the room.
Blake, the fawning fanatic, opened her mouth and bit onto Martin's face.
As the room door closed, Martin gave her toned buttocks a smack and said, "Wrong spot!"
