Moments later she scurried back into the bedroom and literally hopped in bed, crawling on top of Rob. He was acutely aware of how naked they both still were as they shared a long, lingering kiss.April looked down at Rob, puzzled. "How long have you been awake?" she asked. "You taste like coffee." A little while," he answered vaguely. "Yea, I made some coffee; I hope you don't mind." Huh? I don't have coffee." Sure you do, in the cabinet just over the stove."April scowled, trying to figure out what Rob was talking about. Then it hit her. "Oh, that? That was some decaf I bought for my mom a long time ago when she was visiting. Why the fuck did you drink decaf? Ugh!" Rob laughed, then said "Yea, that's what I was thinking: 'why the hell does she have decaf?' I didn't notice it was until I finished a pot of it and didn't have the shakes." Oh, god Rob, I'm sorry. I haven't gotten around to buying real coffee because I usually just pick up a Starbucks on my way out anyway." April was. The current batch of living and recently dead Donaldson's was as tougha bunch as this country could produce. Equally devoted to the study of militarytactics and the works of Marquis De Sade, they were a twisted lot. Trace usedto say that his family considered arms their profession and pain their hobby. How did a nice girl like me from Lowell, Massachusetts get mixed upwith this group of patriotic sadists? Well for one thing, I'm not all thatnice. My predilection for reaching an orgasm only after a sound flogging hadbrought Trace Donaldson and I together. We'd met at a place in Manhattan calledthe Hell Fire Club. I'd just graduated college with my nursing degree. UncleSam's Army had funded my education. As a result, I had a five-year commitmentto patch up soldiers in whatever piss poor backwater the Army selected. During college I'd discovered that having a man between my legs slamminghis cock in my cunt didn't rock my world. Over time, I learned that pain wasthe additive I.
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