Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs
Happily ever after—what a joke! I tried that once and ended up divorced.
Now, I only want one thing from men.
Charlie Nelson is good at giving me that one thing. Really, really good.
So good, in fact, I discovered a new side of myself.
I never knew I liked to watch until I saw his talented hands touching someone else.
I never knew I liked to be watched until I felt his searing gaze on me.
Maybe happily ever after isn’t always a white picket fence, wedding bells, and 2.5 kids.
Maybe it’s something a bit more…unconventional.
*Warning: Contains dirty talk, piercings and hot threesomes.
Intended for readers over 18 years of age.
“While I love the way you’re staring at my cock right now, I’d love it even more if you touched it—preferably with your lips or tongue.”
I look up into his face and see him watching me, muscles corded with tension, hands balled into fists at his sides. He towers over me like a Greek god. Some women might think the man is in the position of power in this situation, but he isn’t. I have all the power right now, and I want to drive him crazy.
“I think I like the idea of your cock being my canvas,” I tell him, gripping the base of him. I lean in close and rest it on my face, loving the heat and weight of it on my cheek. He grunts at the contact, swiveling his hips to get more friction. I look up at his face, position his penis just so, and land a purposeful kiss at the base, stamping my red lipstick on him. His eyes flare and he smiles, his dimple popping out on one side. Then I drag my lips up the side of the shaft, pulling the red color in a smeared line. I’m sure it’s smeared all over my mouth, too, but I don’t care. I pull his cock down and place another kiss around the barbell on the top of his head, stamping my lipstick around his piercing. My tongue sneaks out to touch the piercing as I do this, unable to resist pushing on it in the process.
A hasty, “Fuck,” is my reward, and the sound goes straight to my clit.
I pull back and admire my handiwork. The sight of his penis with red lips at the tip and the base with lipstick smeared down the side should look ridiculous, but it doesn’t. We both groan in appreciation and I need more.
Before my tongue touches his tip, he reaches down and angles my chin up, inspecting the mess my lipstick made on my face, I’m guessing. “This is a good look on you, Red. If I could take a picture, I’d title it Debauched.”
Isabel Love is a hopeless romantic. She loves reading about two people falling in love, overcoming whatever obstacles they may face, and finding their happily ever after. A husband, two kids, and a full-time job keep her busy by day, but by night, she can be found with her Kindle in hand, reading “just one more chapter”.