Layla receives a surprise birthday gift when a nearly-naked a man appears in her apartment. A little drunk and not wanting to disappoint the gift-giver, she takes her present for a little spin.
As I looked again at Ink black tats appeared as if from nowhere. They were cryptic and symmetrical. One in the near shape of a mandala rested right above his heart. A great sleeve of black filled his left arm from the shoulder down to his wrist. Most of the long tattoo was made of archaic symbols ripped from an alchemy book. In the middle, right over his biceps, was what looked like text but in a strange blocky language I’d never seen before. And the last was a heart with a dagger plunged through it.
Exactly the kind of man you don’t bring home to your dead mother. Precisely the type I wanted to fuck on my living room carpet.
And if he’s a secret serial killer?
There was that pesky moral nag again.
“Put your hands behind your back,” I said even before I had any idea what I wanted. Ink obliged, wrapping both together as he smiled at me. Did he know what I was doing?
No. I barely did.
What would even work? My bra? No, that thing cost sixty bucks on sale. The latex gloves in my pocket? Then I caught it. I’d been doing some light ‘redecorating’ for which someone who doesn’t own a hammer required two things—WD-40 and duct tape.
I grabbed the silver tape and yanked a strip free. The whipping sound sent my heart racing and I could feel Ink staring up at me. Not in concern or confusion, but pure obedience. I nearly placed the sticky tape to his wrist before I paused. He had arm hair and it would hurt coming off.
“Please,” he purred. “Your want is my dream.”
Fuck. Just hearing a man say that was a birthday wish come true. Clenching my toes, I wrapped the tape around his wrist, binding them behind his back. Three revolutions just to be sure because…because I didn’t trust him.
Bound and on his knees, all Ink could do was watch me bend over. I heard the creak of the tape, but he couldn’t break free to touch my breasts all but skimming against his chest. Good.
“I want…” My voice sputtered as I drew a finger along the heart tat on his chest. “To fuck you on your knees.”
Teeth bit down on my ear, causing me to gasp, but the pain was little more than a pinch. He whispered, “I know,” the words lingering in his wake.
All Layla wanted was to spend her Halloween birthday alone. She never expected a nearly naked man in a red thong to appear out of nowhere in her living room. He calls himself Ink and insists he’s an incubus bound to her. Not about to fall for that, she plans to toss him out on his shiny butt when she remembers her friends kept hinting at a late birthday present. Layla fears they got her one hot session with a man built for sex. And it’s not nice to return a gift without trying it out…
In this steamy prequel to a paranormal reverse harem series, Layla learns that her entire life has been a lie and that sometimes a man who wants to answer her every desire is exactly what he appears to be.
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