Available March 2, 2010 from Samhain Publishing: http://samhainpublishing.com/coming/training-the-receptionist
It’s her naughty dream job—if they’re satisfied with her performance…
Eager to escape her miserable existence in Low-Life, Long Island, street-wise Dana Arthur jumps at an entry-level position with the consulting firm Cowell & Dirk. As her training period begins, she quickly discovers she’s required to do more than take messages and order office supplies. Her job description contains some deliciously naughty duties that give receptionist a whole new meaning.
Simon has almost given up on finding the right woman who will please his clients as well as his demanding partner and mentor, Ethan Cowell. No one measures up—until Dana. Her inner fire and fearless nature are perfect for the job. No matter what wicked punishment he devises to chastise her for her on-the-job mistakes, she accepts with a relish that leaves him wondering which one of them is really in control.
The last thing he expects to discover is that she’s a perfect sexual soul mate he can’t bear to share. But share he must—it’s part of his business agreement. Unless he makes Ethan the deal of a lifetime…
Warning: This title contains explicit sex, bondage, ménage, ingenious use of office furniture, lingerie, and the occasional sex toy. Oh, and did I mention the package delivery guy?
Simon stood at the wall-to-ceiling picture window that looked out over the depressing downtown. His jacket was off, hands in his pockets. I stopped just inside the door. When I closed it behind me, I felt a strange sense of safety. As if anything could happen inside this beige space and it would be okay.
“You can take off your jacket now,” he said without turning around.
My heart seemed to jump into my throat. Every nerve ending in my body stood at attention. I opened my mouth to say something snappy, but nothing came out. Instead, I slid one arm out of my jacket, then the other. Not sure what to do with it, I dropped it to the floor.
“Good. Now you can put your hands on your nipples.”
I didn’t move. I wasn’t sure I’d heard right. Besides, my heart was beating too fast. There was a long pause while we both stood still, me looking at his back, him looking out the window. Finally, he turned and gave me a mild stare.
“You’re not touching your nipples.”
I cleared my throat. “No.”
“I would imagine they’re in need of some contact right now. How do they feel? Aroused? Irritated?” His expression was one of concerned interest.
He had a point. “Like I want to jump out of my skin,” I admitted.
“Ah, I thought so. That’s why I suggested touching them. I certainly wouldn’t want you to jump out of that beautiful skin. Would you like to try it now?”
In the back of my mind, I wondered why we were talking about my nipples rather than proper phone procedure, or some other job-related issue. But his green eyes flicked over my body, scattering sparks of heat wherever they went, and before I knew it my hands rose to my tits. I put my fingers around my nipples. The heat of them surprised me. My poor nipples were burning up under there. How had he known it was exactly what I needed, to touch myself like that?
“Tighter,” came Simon’s soft, almost hypnotic voice.
I pressed tighter and felt the texture of the lace dig into my flesh. My breath caught and my face flushed. A jolt of heat zinged on a straight line from my nipples to my insides. Moisture sprang between my legs. Startled by my body’s reaction, I snatched my hands away from my nipples.
“Did I ask you to stop?” Simon sounded disappointed. Reproving. My hands jumped back to my breasts.
“No, stop,” he said.
I stopped, hands hovering a few inches away from my breasts.
“I want to see what you look like now. Unbutton your blouse.”
What the F? Was my brand-new boss really telling me to undo my blouse? And was I really on fire to do whatever he said? It kills me to admit it, but I couldn’t disobey him. Didn’t want to. He was leading me somewhere with that sexy voice. Somewhere I’d never been. Somewhere I wanted to go. I unbuttoned my blouse and drew it off my shoulders. I dropped it onto the floor, on top of my jacket. The stuffy office air felt cool against my skin.
“Beautiful,” said Simon, a note of approval in his voice. “Exactly how I’d pictured it on you. But your hair’s all wrong. It should be piled on your head. Do it.”
That last phrase came out stronger, more like an order. Without thinking, I filled my hands with my hair and pulled it to the top of my head. It felt thick and silky against my hands. I’d never been quite so aware of the feel of my hair before.
Simon walked across the office with deliberate slowness. When he got to my side, he walked around me.
From behind, I felt his finger touch lightly on the back of my neck.
“Fascinating tattoo.” He seemed to realize it was still tender back there, because he didn’t linger on the tattoo.
Instead he traced his finger along the side of my neck, down the rounded front of my shoulder, into the crevice between my breasts, creating a trail of fire wherever he touched. Then he delved under the lace of the teddy. Unbearable excitement filled me as he lifted my nipple away from the fabric.
“Mm,” he said noncommittally as he examined my nipple. He reached around my back and brought the other one out of its nest. His body, strong and smelling of some kind of jet-set aftershave, pressed against me. In the office window, I saw our reflection. His intent face bent over my shoulder, his hands at my front, tugging at my nipples. Me in a provocative teddy and tight hobble skirt. The sight added to my excitement and I leaned back against him. “You’ve had an interesting morning, haven’t you?” He murmured in my ear. “Look how these juicy little morsels swelled up. I bet that lace teased you hard, didn’t it? Rubbed up against you like a rough little kitten tongue. I thought about you all morning, thought about these breasts stirring under your blouse. Thought about how wet it must be making you. Thought about how your nipples would feel against my hands, all hard and excited and…”
A spasm shook my body. It shocked me. What was happening to me? It was as if he had suddenly acquired ownership of the body that had previously been mine. I was dancing to his tune, singing at his command.
He pulled my nipples again, hard, and again my body arched back against him. I felt his erection press against my ass. The thought that I’d given him that hard-on made me even more excited. I wanted him to ravage me with it. Grind it deep. I squirmed and panted, but he wouldn’t let me get closer to his cock.
I don’t know Michelle all that well, yet, but I have a feeling we’re all gonna get to know her a lot through her books. What I do know so far is she’s a bit of a mystery, very sweet, has interesting taste in erotic jewelry and writes HOT! The title is Bound Odyessy after all! grins…
Genre: BDSM Menage (Fem Dom)
Length: Super Plus Novel
Available from Ellora’s Cave: http://www.jasminejade.com/pm-7702-598-bound-odyssey.aspx
Author Website: www.MichellePolaris.com
The year is 2067 and Earth is self-destructing from environmental cataclysms. A portal to a new world is ripped open and refuge there is Earth’s only hope. Enter Jace, cowboy diplomat, who is preparing for the negotiation of a lifetime. A sexually conflicted alpha male, he hates everything with a cock, especially himself. The last thing Jace expects is to fall in love with both a woman and a man.
His dark history presents the ultimate challenge to Mira and Roman, the sexual Dominant team hired to prepare Jace for the female-dominant culture of the new world. Tragedy has made Mira distrust her Mistress abilities. Survival is her priority, and she resists her deep attraction to Jace’s haunted eyes and sculpted body.
Roman, however, falls hard and fast for Mira and Jace, ready to honor Mira as his Mistress and force Jace to recognize him as Master. Bound in one another’s chains and pushed to the limits of arousal and pain, they must outrun sabotage and conspiracy to find salvation for their bodies, souls and hearts.
October 4, 2067
New Denver Post web service. President Corrigan reflected on the seventeen-year anniversary of the cataclysmic gravity well explosions that changed our world during today’s ceremony, opening temporary housing units. The units are designed to address crowding in New Denver. In a solemn voice, he reiterated that this was a time when we must come together to face the greatest adversity and triumph over it.
* * * * *
Mira leaned into the precious man, the restraints attaching him to the St. Andrew’s cross squeezing his toned muscle and pale skin. Allowing little movement. She visually checked the buckles holding his body, making sure none damaged him as he struggled. His breath came in heaving gulps. Sweat and tears ran down his face, neck and chest in streams to glisten in the ginger hair nesting his genitals. The musk of the male animal, pushed to the point of exhaustion, smelled pungent in the room.
Mira pressed the stem of her crop into the red stripes covering his ass, eliciting another gasp. Her nipples tightened, the pulse of her pussy and the contractions popping inside her a constant reminder of how aroused the work left her. But today was about Eric, not her satisfaction. She was angry with him, true. But he’d wanted this from her. And she was worried about his recent behavior. As she released the buckle of his cock harness, she feathered a light breath against his ear, pressed her mouth flush to his lobe. Even over his groan of agony, she knew he heard her. “Come for me, Eric. Now!”
His body jerked, spasming under her grip on his cock. As he released, a long spewing of ejaculate made longer by the denial she’d forced on him, he cried out. “Mistress,” the plea and prayer as much a sweet song to her as the symphony of his contorted features lost in that high of sub space, that transcendent bliss that blew away all of the barriers of his soul. His eyes fluttered back in his head as his limbs lost all coordination in the little movement the bindings allowed. Finally, as his cock twitched with the final drops of semen, now dripping off his belly, he slumped into the straps securing him to the cross.
Mira kissed the wet bend of skin behind his neck, smiled up at him as she stroked his cheek. “Good boy, Eric. I’ll release you and that fine body of yours will rest.”
She undid the restraints, assisting him off the device as he leaned against her. Her strength allowed her to support his weight although he stood inches taller and weighed more. Mira gently wiped his body with a cloth dipped into the basin beside her four-poster bed. She feathered another kiss on his cheek and tucked him beneath her patchwork quilt. She’d sat for hours sewing together those squares, one designed by every client she’d allowed into her life since moving to New Denver. A labor of love. Now Eric strained to sit up from under it, grabbed her hand as she adjusted the covers.
“Mistress, forgive me?”
“You are forgiven, dear one. But if you ever go outside without your breather again, I’ll cane that ass of yours so hard and fuck it with a dildo so large you won’t be sitting for weeks. The hours I worked you today will seem like nothing.”
He smiled up at her in relief and she faked her own smile in return. Damn it, but why’d he taken such a stupid risk? She suspected she knew. A call for her attention after months of distancing herself from him and every other sub client she saw at The Marked Tree. He knew she’d be forced to punish him. He’d approached her today, craving it. Not once used his safe word to stay her hand. She hated the part of her that drew away from her subs. The last thing Mira wanted to do was hurt any of those under her care. They trusted her, and she betrayed their trust each and every day her bruised heart kept her from giving them her all. And time only made it worse.
At a tap on her door, Mira left Eric drifting off to sleep in her bed and she escaped into the hallway, grabbing her black silk robe and tying the sash around her waist to cover her corset. The light cream leather molded against her body, well broken in from years of wear.
Joanne faced her in the hall, creases marring her usually placid expression. “Moore is here,” she said.
“He’s early. Tell him to wait.” Irritation tightened Mira’s nerves.
Joanne had pleaded with her to talk to this man, one Randolph Moore, some stick-up-his-derriere government official from Joanne’s description. Ten years of working in this private D/s house, and not once was anyone allowed to meet here for business. That is, other than the business of gratifying the soul’s need for honest sexual expression. But this guy held enough clout to have Joanne shaking in her sleek, thigh-hugging boots. Seeing fear in her boss-cum-friend’s usually hard-edged eyes pissed Mira off. She protected her friends, no matter what.
“You said you’d do this,” Joanne answered with a spark of annoyance. Did she think Mira was backing out? “This house stood by you for years. We’ve made it through a lot. You owe me.”
Mira did owe Joanne. Guilt weighed down her shoulders like lead. Mira had backed out of her promise to take over The Marked Tree with little explanation.
“Fine. Give me ten minutes to change my clothes and get Eric settled in a free room. I wrung him dry and he needs recovery time.”
Joanne’s trademark grin was back. It relaxed Mira’s shoulders to see it. “Thank you. I’ll show him up after ten.”
Now Mira only had to keep her mouth shut and listen to this Moore before biting his head off whole.
* * * * *
Ummm…I think I might just have to read some more…
I could just read Ava’s books all day.
Genre: M/M Regency Paranormal
Available from Samhain Publishing, February 23, 2010: http://samhainpublishing.com/authors/ava-march
Some rules are destined to be broken.
Loneliness. A concept with which Raphael Laurent is very familiar. He’s lived a solitary life for thirty-six years, shunning the excesses of the local vampire clan—until he spots Lord Aleric Vane, the handsome and dissolute third son of a duke. For three years Raphael has watched from a distance, for only when he is near Aleric does the hollow, empty ache in his chest ease.
Cut off from his family for refusing to follow his father’s dictates, Aleric’s nights are filled with vice. But after three years in London, the city has lost all appeal. Desolate and penniless, his future appears bleak. Until a mysterious man drops from the shadows to drive off a trio of murderous thieves.
When Aleric awakens, he finds himself forever changed. The itch for more that drove him to London is gone. In its place is the feeling that he’s known the beautiful Raphael all his life.
But to save Aleric, Raphael had to break the rules, giving him a chance to love the one man he never thought he could have—a chance that could be ripped away by Aleric himself…
Warning: This book contains hot m/m action with a new vampire with a ramped up sex drive, and a dash of voyeurism of the m/m, m/f, and m/m/m varieties. Definitely not your traditional Regency romance.
“How do you feel?” The heavy regard in the man’s eyes begged an honest answer and not merely a polite, conversational response.
“Damned fantastic. But I’m thirsty.” Those last three words popped out of his mouth without conscious thought. But he had spoken the truth. He was parched. Not hunger, but thirst. Sharper and more acute than after a long summer’s day spent under the hot sun.
Raphael pushed up one lace-edged sleeve, held out his wrist to Aleric. “Here. Drink.”
“Ah…I-I don’t think I should…” Even though uncertainty waged within, his feet moved, taking him closer to Raphael, to that beautifully bared wrist.
“I had more than enough last night. Take what you need.”
“We can drink from each other?”
The hesitation before Raphael nodded did not inspire confidence. In one swift movement speaking of practiced ease, Raphael brought his wrist up to his mouth, slashed his fangs across his own skin.
An all too familiar sweet, slightly metallic scent wafted from the wound, surrounding Aleric. He flared his nostrils, drinking in the delicious scent. He vaguely registered the prick on his gums as his fangs descended. All his attention had focused on Raphael’s wrist, the blood pooling over the wound, the strong pulse in his vein.
One tantalizing crimson drop slid down to the back of his upturned hand, clung to his skin for the briefest of seconds, poised to drop…
Aleric grabbed Raphael’s arm. The instant blood touched Aleric’s tongue, something lurched inside him. A raw, primitive need coupled with a sense of absolute completion.
Liquid flowed into his mouth and down his throat. Heat pooled in his stomach, warming him from the inside out. So sweet. So satisfying. Each swallow demanded another and another.
A low moan filled his ears. Raphael. Suckling greedily, Aleric glanced up. Raphael’s head had tilted back, his long lashes resting on his cheekbones, his lips parted. Swaying on his feet, he grabbed Aleric’s shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle and tendons.
Even above the almost overpowering scent of blood, he could detect Raphael’s arousal. Male musk and the hint of pre-come carried on the heat pouring off the man. His own body reacted instantly. His cock hardened, his ballocks tightening. He released Raphael’s wrist, grabbed the other man, and crushed his mouth to his.
A hot tongue slipped into his mouth, tangled with his. He let out a groan and jerked Raphael closer, ground his hips, rubbing their hard pricks together. Lust ripped through him, consumed his senses.
He tore at the placket of Raphael’s breeches, shoved them down to his knees. Pushed the velvet coat from his shoulders. With a hand on his upper arm, he whirled Raphael around, pressed him up against the wall. Frantic need drumming through his veins, he made quick work of the placket of his own trousers, freeing his erection.
Hands braced against the wall, Raphael arched his lower back in clear invitation, presenting Aleric with his arse. “Take me, Aleric. Please,” Raphael said, urgency soaking the plea.
Breaths coming hard and fast, he flicked the tail of Raphael’s shirt aside, spit into his palm and dragged his fingers between the man’s rounded cheeks, wetting his entrance. The puckered skin quivered beneath his touch, sending a jolt straight to his groin. Unable to wait another second, he palmed those cheeks, thumbs grazing the slick hole, and spread him wide. Then he pushed his cock in the other man’s arse.
Raphael let out a guttural groan, one of purest pleasure. A quick jerk of his hips and Aleric settled hilt deep, pulling another low groan from Raphael. Exquisite tightness gripped his length. And heat. So goddamn hot. The urge to thrust, to pound his cock into the other man, to posses him completely, gripped hold. Gritting his teeth, he pulled back, briefly savoring the lush friction, and then gave into that urge and slammed into Raphael, each hard, relentless stroke marking the man as his own.
Raphael turned his head into his outstretched arm, lips pressed to the white sleeve covering his biceps, as if to muffle his grunts. Stray strands of golden hair had escaped his neat queue and were stuck to his sweat-dampened temples. One quick flick of Aleric’s fingertips, and those strands were tucked behind his ear. Raphael’s eyes, clamped shut, fluttered open. The lust and raw need in Raphael’s gaze hit him square in the chest.
Aleric leaned full over him, sunk his fangs through Raphael’s waistcoat and shirt and into the hard muscle of his shoulder. Mouth pressed against the fabric, he sucked hard as he continued to drive into Raphael. Each thrust felt like the absolute definition of perfection. A tremor shook Raphael’s body and then he let out a hoarse shout.
The scent of his release sparked Aleric’s own. The orgasm barreled upon him. Swift and fierce. Too strong to be denied. With a savage roar, he spilled deep within Raphael.
His arms slid around to wrap around Raphael’s waist as he rested against him, the slick silk of his waistcoat pressed against his cheek. Oddly, he didn’t feel drained or tired. Not a hint of the usual languor. He felt invigorated and ready for more, the sharp edge merely taken off his lust.
Raphael turned in his arms. A slight flush stained his cheeks. His upper fangs grazed his sensuous, full bottom lip. With a light touch, his fingertips whispered from Aleric’s temple down to his jaw. “Feel better?”
Aleric nodded and leaned into his touch, seeking more. The most profound sense of contentment stole over him. He dropped his head to nuzzle his neck, the man’s cravat tickling his nose. He could stay here with Raphael, just hold him close, soak up his scent, the heat from his body, forever.
“Aleric.” Raphael’s voice drifted around him, as soft and light as the hands caressing his bare back. “We need to leave soon.”
© Ava March 2010
Yep, a definite must for me tomorrow.
I was Amy’s editor through a few of her books and got to know her a little bit. After we parted ways on that level, I got to know her as a friend and she’s just amazing. She can write anything and she has a wonderful dedication, an interesting imagination, and a loyal group of supportive friends around her. She’s funny and sweet and she knows I have great respect and faith in her writing.
And holy mackerel just look at that cover!
Available from Ellora’s Cave: http://www.jasminejade.com/pm-6759-354-rain-god.aspx
Author Website: www.AmyRuttan.com
A thousand years in the future there is no water on Earth and the Interstellar Space Organization is finding a way to bring it back, but the Hazoor faction is intent on stopping them.
On a mission to the dead planet, sexy Commander Shana Kelley discovers a mysterious cavern and a turquoise stone. Not what it seems, the stone contains an ancient rain god who claims he can make the water come, but on one condition, she must come first, mating with him deep inside the cavern.
Shana gives in to all her erotic desires, letting T’koh, the sensual rain god, show her the power of water over life.
Warm rain washed over her body, making her hair wet. Something she could only imagine. It pattered over her like silk, soft, wet. Her body was slick as she ran her hands over her skin.
The sensation caused her pussy to become wet. It turned her on letting something so natural and pure run over her.
Opening her eyes, she saw that the rain was purple and blue as it washed over the scarred landscape of the Earth. It caused the cracks to seam together, like a needle to a thread.
Then she sensed him, a dream lover, turning she saw him standing through the downpour. His eyes were dark and glowing as he stared at her. She wanted him. She wanted him in the rain.
The man stepped forward. His eyes were pitch black as he approached her. The water was running in rivulets over his body. There was a crack of thunder and a bolt of lightning that seemed to cause his eyes to glow like a dark fire.
Moving like quicksilver, he pressed his body against hers. He ran his fingers over her cheeks before his hard strong hands ran through her silken hair, pulling her forward so that he could capture her lips with his mouth.
His hot, wet tongue invaded her mouth, entwining with hers as he kissed her deeply.
Moaning, she pressed her body tighter against his, the water making their skin slick. She could feel his cock hard against her belly and she could feel her cream between her thighs. His body was hard, hot and taut, she wanted him so badly. She wanted to fuck him.
Well, oh my...
Selena is…I’m just not sure there are words enough to describe her. She is sweet, supportive, loves her chocolate, her tea, and her friends. She is always including others in her promotion of her books and keeping her name in front of readers. She funny and witty and I just think she’s a blast. I love being around her, even just online. She’s so cute and bubbly. And her books…are HOT!
Genre: Paranormal, Multicultural
Available from Changeling Press
Author Website: www.SelenaIllyria.com
All romanced out, Love Fairy Alastrina is tired of putting together happy couples. All she wants is a little bit of “me time” to forget her job for one night. She strides into Last Call: London looking for some action.
Chocolate Shock: Heat packed sexin’ — no baggage required or desired.
Rebellious leopard shifter Garrison Fredricks may be the answer to all her needs. Some sexy talk and a bit of action is just what the love fairy ordered. Only problem is he has a teensy-weensy little secret that may piss her off. And a Love Fairy pissed off is not a good thing.
Garrison’s beer arrived. He took a pull from it and slouched in his seat, still bored, still restless. The door opened and out of habit he glanced toward the entrance, only to have his breath catch in his throat. His heart skipped a beat and then sped up. Warmth flowed over him as his body tightened. His cock hardened and pressed against his jeans.
“Oh, fuck me,” he groaned, as he watched the woman in the tightest jeans he had ever seen stroll into the bar and wind her way gracefully through the crowd. She had a corset that showcased her high breasts and a small waist. Her ass made him want to bite his bottom lip to hold back the moan threatening to escape.
She was a tiny thing with riotous dark brown curls streaked with pink. When she turned around, he saw her face. Her features were delicate with a small pert nose. Her lips were full and tempting, slicked with shimmering pale pink gloss.
Blow job lips, he thought, and he wanted those lips on him, covering his body in sweet love bites before she sucked him off ’til he shot his load down her throat. His cock jumped as the fire burning within him became an inferno lapping at his veins.
His leopard scratched at the flesh bars of its prison, wanting to go up to the woman it desired and mark her with its scent. She made things worse by turning back toward the bar, giving him another glimpse of her perfectly rounded ass. The corset left a wide strip of skin exposed above the waistband. Her perfect mocha skin was adorned with a colorful tattoo done in glittering pink ink. He had to strain his eyes to make out the glyphs and symbols on her lower back.
“Lean over some more, love. Give daddy a good look at what it says,” he urged softly. As if she heard him, she stuck her ass out further and he sucked in a breath as his pulse pounded in his ears and need roared through him. He had to shake his head to clear the lust wrapping around his mind like a gossamer web.
He squinted to see better and read the tattoo.
“Fairy Alastrina, daughter of Elan, servant of Labhaoise.” He stroked his chin, his fingers slightly burned from the abrasion of his stubble. Half of his brain saw opportunity to bring a genuine Fairy to Eros, and the other half wanted to fuck the living daylights out of her.
“Alastrina.” He tested her name on his tongue. The sound of his voice came out husky with the edge of a purr.
An image rose of him pounding into her pussy as she cried out in ecstasy before he came himself, spurting his seed deep inside of her as he called out her name, and he swore. Their sweat-slicked bodies moved and ground against one another as they started yet another round.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted. This was not what he needed. Tomorrow he would be going to see Eros. A meeting with him was draining. The love god liked to pick and poke at Garrison’s mental shields. It was a game of chicken because Garrison would be doing the same. Five hundred years of servitude to Eros had taught him all of the god’s weaknesses but no way to exploit them, although Eros knew all of Garrison’s weaknesses and abused them every opportunity he got.
One of his weaknesses was standing a few feet away. This night was either gonna be hell or heaven. He wouldn’t put it past Eros to send him a sexy little gift in the form of this Fairy. Whether it was a trap or not, he was going to fall into bed with her. The question was how. There were others who had noticed her arrival. One of the bolder admirers strode up to her. Before he could even open his mouth he was shot down and sent on his way, a deep red flush of embarrassment on his cheeks for his trouble.
“Mmmm, sassy, I like that.” Garrison sat back and watched as, one by one, men and even a few women went up to curry her favor. After the fourth person was sent away he couldn’t help but wonder why they all wanted a piece of her. She was gorgeous but there had to be something else. He decided to test a theory.
With great concentration he dropped his mental shields a sliver and tasted her power. It was like the sweetest, thickest honey. There was a hint of spice, an indefinable quality that made its potency richer, more seductive to the palate. Power rolled off of her in waves.
Understanding dawned on him all at once; she was a Love Fairy. Legend had it that to be touched or even come in contact with one could bring you good luck in the love department. They weren’t hitting on her. They were asking for her services. He felt bad for them but most of all he felt sad for her. Must be tough never being off the clock to some people. Then again, he could understand how she felt. He was at Eros’ call night and day. Didn’t matter where he was, who he was with or what he was doing, if Eros summoned him Garrison had to go.
As he studied the woman, his desire burned through him. Instead of doing his usual saunter up and try his luck routine, he decided to wait and see what developed. If he played his cards right, there would be no need for him to do anything.
Yeah, that’s a Chocolate Shock!