Click (Next Level, #3)

by Briana Michaels

Overworked and underfucked has become my new lifestyle, but if I don’t stay busy, I’ll go insane.

Moving on like he means nothing to you is goddess-level vengeance in my opinion.”

Today is a new me. Might as well go all in and grab my fantasies by the balls and give it a good tug. Or is it grab life by the hair and give it a good tug? Whatever. I’ll do both. I’m about to carpe this motherfucking diem.

Primal is the one thing that really revs me up. I like rough sex. I love the idea of being chased. I want to be forced to the ground and ravished. I want a man growling in my ear, dominating me and fucking me so good I can’t walk the next day.

He’s one of those hotties with a dad bod, but is still super muscular. He seems like the kind of guy who works out a lot but also loves beer and nachos. That’s my type.

Holyyyyy fffffuuuuucccckkk. Lace and leather are always nice but give me a woman in an oversized sweater and nothing underneath any day of the week.

“The moment the Beast’s curse breaks and he turns human again has to be one of the greatest let downs in cinematic history.”

“He has really big hands.” Leah takes a sip of her martini. “Bet they’d make a really nice necklace.”

Carson dominates when he wants, submits when he wants, and has the confidence of a motherfucking warlord. There’s no other way to describe him.

“Do you know why the big bad wolf is the real hero, Mak?” He unbuttons my fly and pulls my jeans down. “It’s because he can hear you better…” He lowers down and kisses my belly. “See you better…” He grabs my panties with his teeth and pulls them down over my thighs. “And eats you better.”

“Holy Hell Hounds, Batman.” Her gaze drops to my cock and then back up to my face. “Lucifer sent you, didn’t he?” “Excuse me?” “Satan had to have sent you here to destroy my soul and my pussy. You can’t convince me otherwise.” “Better say your prayers then.” I press my palm on the top of her head. “On your knees works best.”

This woman sucks cock like she’s trying to get boba out of a skinny straw. Holy shit. Which one of us was sent by Satan again? Not me. It’s her. Definitely her. Thank you, Lucifer. I will be forever grateful for this gift.

“I’d rather play yours, little vixen.” He snatches the book I’d discarded and hands it to me. “Start reading.” Confusion makes me silent. But then he drops down by my feet and spreads my legs. “Start. Reading. Out loud.”

What’s one person’s not enough, is another person’s just right.”

I’ll have this man until the day I die. Then I’ll crawl into his casket so our bones can turn to dust together.