“ The glow dies down, and she's standing at the end of my bed--the one who's been following me around leaving feather messages. I take in the torn fishnets, plaid mini-kilt, shiny, riveted breastplate w… Libba Bray
“ I want to know,” he breathed, his tongue moving between her breasts. “When do we get to be bad again?” She smiled big. “Baby, I thought you'd never ask. Stylo Fantome
