With stumbling feet, he blindly walked somewhere, anywhere. When he got to the king's study, he looked over his shoulder and checked the carpet over which he'd trodden. No trail of his blood. Which, considering the way his chest was hurting, was a surprise. Sure as shit felt like he'd been shot in the heart.
J.R. WardStichwörter: qhuinn
Butch nodded as if he knew exactly what was doing. "Like I said, my man, it's whatever. You and me? Same as always, no matter who you screw. Although… if you're into sheep, that would be tough. Don't know if I could handle that.
J.R. WardStichwörter: butch-vishous
She was staying. A little longer.
V smiled to himself. So this was what winning the lottery felt like.
Stichwörter: vishous
As she shuffled back, he glanced down at the tent between his legs. Christ, that goddamn thing in there was huge; he looked like he had another arm in his pants.
J.R. WardStichwörter: erotic
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As the two of them came up against each other, Qhuinn's mouth
dropped open. But not because he was shocked and not because he wanted
in on the action.
He simply couldn't breathe. It was as if his ribs had frozen along with
his heart.
No . . . no, goddamn it, no . . .
Stichwörter: qhuinn
Well, aren't you Mother fucking Teresa
J.R. WardStichwörter: humor
V tired to imagine giving up his proclivities. "My monster needs to get out. Especially now.
J.R. WardStichwörter: humor
Phury was the only other possibility, but he was a celibate with a broken frickin' heart. Not really man-whore material.
J.R. WardStichwörter: humor
If you eliminate all possible explanations, then the impossible is the answer.
J.R. WardWell, duh. He was six feet, six inches tall and built like a brick shithouse.
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