I think we're avoiding the most important question here. What matters most. What means the most to men like us."
Conall growled at Billy Dunwich's sincere face. "I am not telling you if she swallows."
Dunwich smiled. "Just tell me if she's a good girl...or if she's a very good girl?
Mots clés men funny-as-hell
Van Holtz, you bastard! You’re doing this on purp…on…oh! That feels very nice. Do that again.
Shelly LaurenstonJack linked her arm with Irene’s. “Good. You deserve to be happy, sweetie. Now what about his Pack?”
“They look frightened and I have absolutely no idea why. I’m nothing but
appropriately pleasant.”
“Price you pay as the new Alpha Female.”
“I understand all that, but running from the room every time I walk in seems a tad harsh, wouldn’t you say?”
“You do have a point.
What the hell was that?” one of them asked.
“Jackal,” Irene stated quietly while watching city streets turn to suburb.
They weren’t taking her to a main airport but a small airstrip. One built
exclusively for private planes.
“Did she just call us jackals?” one of them joked.
Irene grinned which wiped the smile off the man’s face. “No. I said the howl
you heard was jackal.” She looked at Jenny. “They’ll be coming for you.”
Jenny glanced at the men and back at her. She looked terribly concerned she
had a lunatic in the car with her. “The jackals will be coming for me?”
“No. The wolves.”
Jenny sighed. “Why oh why do I always get the nutcases?”
“Oh!” Irene pointed excitedly. “See that spot up there?”
“What about it?”
“That’s where it all started. Where I crossed the Rubicon.”
Exasperated, Jenny snarled, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“It’s feeding time,” Irene whispered.
“That’s it.” Jenny threw up her hands. “We’re so medicating her.
I absolutely could create a lightsaber."
"You could not create a lightsaber."
"I could too. It's all a science."
"I thought being a Jedi was mystical?"
Irene snorted. "Mystical, my butt. It's all about science.
She watched as it grew before her eyes. Then it hit her, he hadn't been erect in the first place. Well exactly how big did that thing get anyway? Was that normal, even by shifter standards? And why did she suddenly care?
"Uh...doc?"
Horrified but not willing to show it, Irene looked into Van Holtz's face. And
yes, the smirk was decidedly worse now.
"Looking for anything in particular there?"
"No," she answered honestly, "just fascinated by the size. It seems
inordinately large.
Relationships are one thing. I kind of agree with you there. But I'm talking
about sex. Don't you have...uh...needs?"
"Yes. But I take care of those by myself. I have a very handy vibrator.
Can't introduce ya,' the feline admitted.
'Why not?'
'Don't know his name.'
'Snuggling up to a man y'all don't know. My momma was right. Yankees are whores.'
'Well, I know him,' MacDermot volumteered.
The She-wolf stared at her. 'So?'
'You said y'all.'
'I didn't say 'all y'all.' So I wasn't talking to you.'
'I don't understand your country-speak,' McDermot complained, dropping into the desk chair across from Crush.
Smirking, Cella stared at the five males in the elevator before asking the women with her, “Show of hands for anyone else who’s had this fantasy before.”
He wasn’t exactly surprised when all those hands went up.
You do things just to irritate me, don’t you?”
Smiling, enjoying himself immensely, and determined to give her a wonderful and relaxing weekend, Van pushed Irene’s wet hair from her face. “Don’t be silly, doc.” He kissed her lips, nuzzled her chin. “Of course I do things just to irritate you.
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