the only person you can count on is yourself. Her moral compass might not point
true North these days—but at least she’s still standing.
there for your brothers is the only thing that matters—but when it mattered
most, he wasn’t.
already been there and back.
never be the same.
angel he needs to forgive himself.
I cry out.
just entering me, or fucking me, or anything as common as that. He is
penetrating me. In every sense of the word. I have never in my life—not
once—cried during sex, but I can feel the tears starting to well up behind my
eyes. And I have no earthly idea why.
able to tell because he asks, “Am I hurting you?”
head, willing the tears not to fall. He withdraws from inside me.
you going?” I ask.
up—he is an impressive sight. He looks like Michelangelo’s David. But if
David had fought his way through some kind of battle and emerged from it
painted by the fury of the fight.
here,” he says as he reaches for my hand and draws me up to stand with him.
Naked and exposed, we both look at each other in the warm light of this nearly
empty apartment, with the frivolous concerns of the rest of the world carrying
on beyond his massive windows, unaware that we are here. And I feel vulnerable.
feels it too because now he takes me by the hand and leads me over to the
kitchen area, which is a little darker, a little more hidden. When we land
there, he picks me up around the waist and plops me onto his kitchen island.
“Ah! It’s cold,” I let out.
up in a second,” he says and winks. He opens a drawer and I glance down to note
that inside there are only restaurant menus, some extra chopsticks still in
their paper wrappers, and an assortment of condoms.
ordering in?” I ask. He ignores me and rips open the wrapper on one of the
be inside you when I come. Not that coming on your ass wasn’t one of life’s
great joys, but, y’know, been there, done that.” He winks again. Fuck, he’s
hot. Scraggly beard and all. Although I’m suddenly trying to imagine what it’d
be like if he shaved. What the face that’s hiding under that mess of hair might
instead, I follow up my previous question with, “And you keep them in the
everywhere,” he says, unrolling the latex and sliding it on his still-hard
cock. “Never know when the delivery boy might be up for a little
foot up the inside of his thigh. “Mmm. It gets a girl so hot when guys talk
about fucking delivery boys.” He smiles. I get the sense that he gets off on it
when I talk shit to him. Which is fine by me, because I love talking shit. So…
me like I’m the pizza guy,” I say.
Releasing April 17, 2018
Releasing May 8, 2018
About the Authors
unforgettable sexy romance. JA Huss is the New York Times bestselling
author of 321 and has been on the USA Today bestsellers list
eighteen times. Johnathan McClain is a veteran actor and writer whose work,
either performed or written, is probably airing on at least one of the channels
on your television right now. Find us at www.hussmcclain.com