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She continues slicing something on the chopping board, using the precision of a sushi chef. I glance over her shoulder to see what she’s cutting, and my heart stops. It’s a severed penis.
“You are not eating a cock sandwich,” I snarl. “Not in this house.”
This reaction to nearly killing him is unexpectedly arousing. I want to do it again.
Seraphine is a potential trip to the electric chair wrapped up in an innocent little package.
“Fuck. You look so pretty when you’re taking this dagger. Pretty enough to draw blood.”
She could have set me on fire with that fluid, and my body was aroused at the very thought of succumbing to her flames.
Seraphine is a tornado in a Tiffany box.
Kissing Seraphine is like finding home.
glance across the passenger seat and smile at my innocent little serial killer.
she’s a beautiful little devil sent to tempt me into the depths of depravity. And I’ll follow her into all seven circles of hell.
“Now that I’ve had you, I can’t ever let you go. You’re mine, Seraphine. Every beautiful piece of you.”
