"Have you heard what happened to Avezedo?" I ask Dexter as he sets a plate of eggs and pancakes on the table in front of me. Butter slowly slides off the steaming surface of it. I pick up with my fork and eat the food gratefully. "Nothing, zilch, nada," replies Dexter with a shrug. "But he's definitely alive?" I ask. "Probably. No body was found in the woods or anywhere else. After they released him from the police station they didn't keep a tab on him. Needless to say," says Dexter as he sets a plate in front od Dane, "we know he's out there somewhere." "That's ominous," I say flatly. "Yeah," says Dane. His plate clearly has more food on it compared to mine. "But knowing you, it shouldn't be a problem," says Dexter. "Don't say that. You'll make him want to go out and find Avezedo to end him," says Dane with a frown. "Reza wouldn't do that, would you?" asks Dexter. "I might now that I have that idea," I say with a grin. Dexter grins with me as we look at Dane who
Walking around the mall with seven other teens, I think of how if this was under any other circumstances where I was in my former occupation, I would be absolutely ballistic. No agent with a third of a brain would ever need any kind of hint or clue to gather that this would not be an acceptable situation. It just stands out too much.But, I'm not that, and I have to tell that to myself. Eight people walking around a mall is probably not an unusual spectacle. Eight teens walking around is probably what every American has seen or imagined once in their life.Entering a retail store, we disperse into groups of two or three to look around. I drift around with Mia and Lewis."Look at this shirt. It's so pristine," remarks Mia as she pulls out a baby blue shirt that looks to be made of cotton. The pearly buttons glisten with the shiny surface of the shirt."It looks good with your hair," complements Lewis as he looks over from a rack of jeans."He's right," I say.Looking around, I notice a
"Don't you want to text your friends that you're okay?" asks Evan as he pulls the ropes on my body away. "I'd rather you take me back to the mall," I say flatly. Meeting back up with everyone, especially Dane, is something I want to happen in the near future. Right now to be precise. "I will, but I want to chat first," he says, well whines really. "And it'll take more than thirty minutes?" I ask. "Probably. So even if we talk in the car, we won't have time," he says. Having untied the chains and ropes around me, he sets them in the corner and puts my Ruger and phone on the table in front of me. "I'll text them then," I say. Evan nods and I send a quick message to Dane and Ves. They're the people in need of knowing what is happening. "So, what do you want to chat about?" I ask as I slip my phone into my pocket. "So you're the third most dangerous person in North America?" he asks. He leans on one arm of his chair. I sit back in my chair, one arm on each of the c
"Happy birthday, Reza," says Dane as he gives a sweet hug."This wasn't necessary," I say into his arm and chest. His soft red sweater is comfy as it forms a cocoon around me."I would do this even if I had only ten cents left," says Dane sweetly.He rocks me softly from side to side as he nuzzles the top of my head. A gentle waltz in place."I'm happier than I appear," then I say happily.I hug him tighter, and he does too."Aww, that's so sweet," remarks Dexter from behind Dane at the kitchen island."Yeah. It's amazing," adds on Ves.Letting me untangle from him slightly, Dane lets me take in the scene before him. A vanilla cake sits on the kitchen island and a few gifts sit on the counter beside it. Some balloons in red and pink float to the ceiling.Everyone present, Ves, Mia, Pika, Jack, Dexter, and even Rupert has a hat on their head. A cone with colorful lines. Lewis and Irene came by earlier in the day to leave their gifts, and gave a hug and kiss on my cheek.Sweet people."
For Joe, and for Taryn. Bless your kind souls and happiness forever to you.............................................................................................Thank you for picking out this book to read, out of the possible millions of other fantastic pieces of literature to enjoy in the world that we live in.Foremost, and by far the most important, I would like to state that this book does not really focus on romance. It just doesn't, in my opinion, fit in that criteria. Perhaps in a sub-genre. But not in a category, or a genre itself.Rather, it fits in the genre that explores what kind of actions that ought to be taken when it comes to interacting with people individually. And thinking about what the people we do interact with think of the way we treat them as individuals.A story of personal exploration and the way we handle the ethical side of the human condition.There are aspects that entail romance in this book, and maybe that's why it roars with that kind of passio
Arching up against the meaty flesh of the Russian, I mewl as he rubs his clothed crotch against my butt. He smells like cigars and whiskey, but the pungent smell makes me even hotter for his flesh. "Little squirrel. You've wandered into the ogre's den. And I'll eat you up so that nobody can ever enjoy you again," he says gruffly.He squeezes my butt roughly with one hand, the other holding my chin tightly as he kisses and horks my mouth with his own. "Please!" I mewl out. Some drool leaks out the side of my mouth, trickling down my chin. The chest of the man is huge and square, the hours of working in his private gym clearly working miracles on his body. He growls deep in his chest as if an animal is in there. A lion, wanting to eat me up. "I'll make it so that you won't be able to walk, so you'll have to crawl wherever you go. That way you can never run from me when I want to get it going with you. And I can grab you right by your ass and drag you to my bed," he growls as
Walking through the white and clean hallways, I make my way to the briefing room. The white lights glare down at me with cold blue-tinted light. It makes the whole place seem unbelievably sterile. But because I've lived here through the years, the whole setup has a calming effect on me, making me a little relaxed. Even though I'm to be always alert.Making my way to metal doors that lead into the room I'm going to, I stop. Raising a fist, I knock on the cold metal."Come in," calls a gravelly voice.I open the door and step into the office. Compared to the hallway, it's much more flavorful here. A brown and red carpet is spread on the floor. Resting on top of it is a mahogany desk. And a few bookshelves line the white walls.Sitting in the chair behind the desk is Mr. Corbin. He's in his early forties, or maybe fifties. But his once brown hair is fading away, the tips of his hair have some of the lingering color that is just barely there. His square and set jaw are clenched as always.
I've never felt so exposed. Even during the most intimate sessions during my dead career, when I was naked and they were screwing with me, I never felt as if I was exposing a part of me. As if I ought to be mindful of how I should be more protective of my body.But that was because I had something behind me. A force of executive power. Something that they would not able to contend with. But now I'm stripped of that. I'm hollow inside. No direction. No driving force as to make sure I can vie to be better, to make myself the biggest asset. The favored one. But it's all gone. A sunken ship. Rotted and decaying under the weight of the water. And the ships shell breaking and tumbling into disarray, exposing the emptiness of its interior. Yeah, that's me. Sitting in the black van, I sit resolutely as a pole. I may be a frayed mess inside, but I don't show it. I've been hardwired not to. To be the perfect little example of something a male would want to eat up for dinner in his bed,