Claimed (Decadence After Dark, #2)

by M. Never

What’s the point of living if you have nothing to live for?”

“See something you like, sweet thing?” Jett asks flirtatiously, grabbing onto the doorframe above his head. The cuts of his muscles rippling, becoming more defined. Um, hell yes.

He’s a force, half angel, half demon, wrapped up in a package of male perfection.

This evening should be fun, sitting across from my bisexual one-night stand trying to make nice, while my ex-slave owner acts like a petulant child beside me. Awesome.

“See something you like?”

A man’s most precious possession is the woman who walks by his side.

She’s my sanity, and my reason, and my glue. I’m seven broken pieces of a fucked up man, held together solely because of her.

“Trouble in paradise?” Jett asks. I want to punch him in his sarcastic mouth. “Just a hiccup.” I plop down in one of the black leather rolling chairs. “Women, like cheap wine, can give you a headache,” Jett offers his two cents. “They also, like cheap wine, can make you drunk and horny,” Juice adds. I rub my temples. These two are not helping.