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There’s no way any woman alive can get over my body. My Greek God body, with my 8-pack abs and bedroom eyes.
Abby Cleveland thinks she can change me.
Make me less of a playboy. More responsible. Take my hard-partying, womanizing ways and make me into a pillar of respectability.
Well, good luck to her.
Because it’s me that’s going to change her.
I’m going to open up a whole new world for her. By using my body.
I’ll let you guess what part...
**Come join Alexis Angel in this full-length standalone romance. No cliffhanger but it's going to be a scorcher with scenes of MF, MFMM, and very mild FMF. HEA? You know it, babe.**
Aidan
"Welcome to the 2017 Romance Authors Guild of America Awards Ceremony," some stupid fucking idiot is announcing on the other side of the curtain. "If you’ll raise your glasses in a toast, I’d like to introduce you to your hostess for the evening."
Yeah, I don't fucking know who the fuck is out there introducing the hostess. I don’t really fucking care at this point in the game. Why, you ask?
"Oh, fuck, baby, that’s it," Susan moans lewdly in front of me as she juts her ass out at me and I plunge into her with my 12-inch cock. Her elegant black dress is hiked up and her thong is on the floor. My trousers are at my feet and I’m pounding her ass mercilessly. Just as the bottom of her dress is hiked up, the top of her dress is lowered, giving my hands no obstacle as I reach over and squeeze her tits, pinching her pink nipples and making her throw her head back in ecstasy.
That’s fucking why.
"It’s my deep honor to introduce you to USA Today Bestselling Author, Alyssa Moore," that unnamed twat on the other side of the curtain that separates me from the stage continues.
Wait a fucking second. Alyssa Moore?
I look over the backside of the woman that I’m fucking. She’s got long dark brown hair. Fuck, her pussy’s not tight in the least, but it’s getting the job done. Her face isn’t much to look at. I guess I can grab her ass – she does have an alright ass. But when you’ve gotten as much fucking pussy as I have, this girl doesn’t really seem that fucking special.
But wait one moment. I need to ask her something.
"Susan," I say as I keep thrusting in and out and even time my words with my thrusts. At least that’s what it seems like. "What’s your last name again, love?"
That’s a pretty fucking horrible question to ask a broad as you’re fucking her, isn’t it?
Well, it’s a damn sight better than asking her what her first name was—and yes, I’ve had to fucking do that before—so don’t judge me too fucking harshly. But why would you judge me at all? You love this shit. You wish you were right here with me, so I could fuck you with my thick, hard cock, don’t you?
Don’t you?
Don’t fucking lie to me.
I’m 6’ 3" of raw animal lust in a gorgeous fucking body. I have tattoos up and down my left arm. My muscles are cut with the precision of a diamond drill. My 8-pack abs and my pecs and deltoids showcase a body that’s crowned by my lean face and mysteriously dark brown eyes. I have close-cropped brown hair. And let’s not forget the monster 12-inch cock that’s ravaging this pussy right now. One foot of pussy pleasing power added onto a body of a fucking god.
If you don’t wish I was fucking you on the backstage of an awards dinner with the Who’s Who of the romance writing world, then I would seriously suggest that you rethink your priorities, love.
But enough about you and I. Let’s go back to her.
"What. Is. Your. Last. Name." I say the words with each thrust. They seem to drive her fucking crazy.
"Mo…unnngnhh," she attempts, but my cock goes inside of her and pleasure courses through her body.
"Try again," I gasp. I can’t fucking help it. I’m getting close to cumming.
"Mo….Moore," she finally manages to gasp in between shudders.
Oh fuck. It can’t be.
