Wild Desire
He studied the title - Watching Me, Watching You - then carefully flipped it open.
Words leapt up from the page at him. Words that in his current hyper-sensitised state, carried arousing and magical weight: ‘naked’, ‘moist’, ‘distended’. Every letter, every sound in his head, every nuance of meaning seemed to scream to his cock about the body of the writer herself.
‘You can borrow that if you like,’ Diamanda said, looking up briefly from the wafer-thin portable computer notepad she’d pulled out of her other pocket.