The red Porsche circled around Beverly Hills and then plunged into the underground parking of the Four Seasons Hotel. As soon as Elizabeth had parked the car, she unbuckled her seatbelt and threw herself onto Martin.
The Scarlet Witch, with a sweet smile on her face, is right before my eyes.
The thudding pulse of the earth's energy raised a volcano, crashing into Martin's arm.
What normal man could stand the test of an eighteen-year-old beauty.
Martin cupped Elizabeth's face and kissed her.
Elizabeth rose and shifted over, straddling above the passenger seat.
The cramped space in the Porsche pressed them tightly together.
Martin unconsciously thrusted his hips, and Elizabeth's head thumped against the car ceiling with a thud.
"It's too narrow here, can't spread out." Both of them were not small in size, and Martin was also worried that someone might take clandestine photos: "Get out, get out."
