Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. He drove it into her missionary style, and though he was worried about hurting her, he could not stop himself from thrusting into her deeply. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. It is like a second honeymoon. He stood outside of the car, bewildered, as she walked up to the BMW’s front bumper.
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