Barry B Benson Novels & Stories

"You know what fuck you Nixon." "Not even in your dreams doll" "It would be the best sex you'd ever had, better yet why don't you bend over the counter and let me fuck you... no never mind I don't fuck straight men with denial issues and fears of commitment" his eyes do that switch thing where they're color changes when his wolf wants to take over, bringing a smug smile to my face as I see I've hit a nerve. "I'm done having this agreement with you. I have assignments to turn in then I'm going to stay at a hotel in town for a few days"

He confessed. "Mr B?" The policeman looked at Mrs Daves. "The last time we checked at Hittz company, no one bears Mr B, I got all their name in my record books" He said then something suddenly niggled at him. "Or do you mean Mr Benson?" He asked. "Mr Benson?" The hitman called out. "Nah! That's Mr B's friend name, as far as I could remember" He said. "Then Who is Mr B?" Bella's mom asked.

“Dear Lord, what have you done to yourself and just days before the wedding. Sit down and let me have a look at you.” Barbara Benson pulled around the chair next to her beat-up metal desk and gestured to it. Hannah knew better than to offer even token resistance, and frankly, she found standing upright highly overrated at the moment, so she sank gratefully onto the thinly padded seat. Sergeant Benson was the closest thing Hannah had ever had to a mom. One she remembered anyway. Though she supposed where Barbara was concerned, “mom” was a relative term. Barbara was in her late sixties and had raised her own brood of children while simultaneously performing her duties as sergeant, receptionist

I couldn't help but ask, "Who are you?, Benson?"