You turn the lights on and off here and if you can’t sleep and want something to read there are books in the living room…” her voice broke off. “Wait. Can you read?”
His chin took a slight tilt upward. “Aye,” Faolán replied, his voice cool, “in English, Gaelic, Latin, or French. My Welsh is a bit rusty, and I doona remember any of the Greek I was taught except for words not fit for a lady’s ears. I can also count all the way up to…” He looked down and wiggled his large bare toes, “…twenty.”
– Faolán MacIntyre
Mots clés love writing romance dreams sex relationships irish magic ireland mystery scotland memories erotic paranormal witchcraft contemporary celtic tarot florida book-reviews rogue blogging lyrical-press past-life goodreads gaelic cups rt-book-reviews shannon-macleod trs-featured-author astral-sex blog-tour celtic-hearts romance-reviews romance-writers-of-america
Och, lass. Yer going to have to not do that.” Faolán exhaled. “Creeping up on a man is a dangerous thing, and I confess I’m jumpier than most. Yer feet are soft as a cat’s.”
“I wasn’t creeping anywhere, I was going to make coffee and this is my house, I’ll creep anywhere I like,” Colleen muttered with a petulant scowl. “But I wasn’t creeping.
Mots clés love writing romance dreams sex relationships irish magic ireland mystery scotland memories erotic paranormal witchcraft contemporary celtic tarot florida book-reviews rogue blogging lyrical-press past-life goodreads gaelic cups rt-book-reviews shannon-macleod trs-featured-author astral-sex blog-tour celtic-hearts romance-reviews romance-writers-of-america
On the bed - now,” he ordered, yanking the band of his shorts and dropping them on the floor. “I need to fuck right now more than I need to breath.
Alessandra TorreSolus walked over to the young brown-haired man and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, ignoring the look of panic he received in return. "You can call me Solus." His golden eyes trailed meaningfully down the mortal's body before he added, softly, "I've been told it's easier to scream.
Nenia CampbellMots clés humor sex innuendo sexual erotica
Battery Park resonates with lust as the sun approaches its zenith. A primal impulse takes hold of the young couples strolling the gravel walkways, the newlyweds who have paused to admire DeModica’s bronze bull, the truant teens laid out on the cool grass. Maybe because all flesh tantalizes in the early summer, in the right light, or because, at this time of year, there is more flesh exposed, midriffs, cleavage, inner thighs, the park is suddenly transformed into a dynamo of panting and groping. This desire is not the tender affection of evening, the wistful intimacy of the twilight’s last gleam. It is raw, concupiscent hunger.
Jacob M. AppelStarshine’s greatest challenge is deciding whether a woman is too young to soothe or too old to shame. Handling the men is much easier. They may feign interest in figures and photos, but their underlying interest is for breasts and thighs. A generous smile often adds an extra zero to a check; an additional inch of exposed cleavage can clothe five Laotian children. The vast majority of these men do not expect to purchase Starshine’s favors. They are husbands, fathers, pillars of the community, the sort of upstanding middle-aged patriarchs who would rather castrate their libidos than compromise their reputations, and even if their three-digit donations could earn them a quickie with the canvasser, they would deny themselves the pleasure.
Jacob M. AppelMots clés sex new-york-city marketing canvassing
If you give a man a hammer, he thinks he can solve all problems by pounding. Well, God gave men penises....
Jacob M. AppelMots clés humor men sex hammer
The boss is never your friend, even if you're sleeping with him.
Jacob M. AppelBe optimistic. Always put on clean underwear if you're going on a date.
Jacob M. AppelA cascade of thousands of pomegranate pits fructify her from above and female hands maculate the goddess's body in the musical mists of mind-blowing nightly sex. But they won't fuck her, they will kill her.
Laura GentileMots clés sex kill musical goddess pomegranate
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