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She heard Irene scream in excitement, "what the hell are you guys doing?" "Oh, oh," Tasha and Irene turned to face her, "This is so good, Elle!" Irene ran to her and hugged her, "This is awesome!" "what are you talking about?" She frowned. "The book, who said you can't write romance? This book is so good! I can't even explain it in words," Irene squealed. "You liked it?" Elle smiled at her. "I loved it!" "I didn't know you could write a romance novel," Tasha blinked in surprise. "Dude, it's like you've poured your heart out," Tasha couldn't believe her eyes.

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progressive-markdown_:is(p,blockquote,ul,ol,h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6)]:pr-8"> The Obsidian Club occupied the top three floors of an unmarked building in Manhattan's Financial District. No signs. No advertising. Membership cost $50,000 annually and required three referrals from existing members. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3 standard-markdown"> It was the most exclusive sex club in New York City. Possibly in the country. And Maya worked there three nights a week. Not as a bartender. Not as a hostess. As one of the "angels"....the club's term for the women who serviced members anonymously through gloryholes, private rooms, and live exhibitions.

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I was relieved to see there were no men here, at least if there was going to be a man he should be gay and we all agreed to that. We were six. Cindy Bellman, Aisha Mohammed, Drew Finch, Jessica Boston, Lexi Hale, and me. We were just six beautiful ladies who loved to talk about our favorite books and rant about how JK Rowling is a bitch for her transphobic tweets. Sometimes we'd just go out to have some fun. We weren't just a book club we were a sisterhood. Lexi's mystery thriller novel will be out next month and I'm so happy for her, there's no room for jealousy or spite because as women who moan over hot fictional characters like Christian Grey we can not bash each other all we have is lov

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hot, possessive, hungry, and then Gabriel spoke first. “I want your pussy,” he tapped my lips with two fingers, “here.” He dragged those same fingers down my throat, over my breasts, between my legs, circling my clit once. “And Henry gets this.” Henry exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years. “Fuck yes.” I nodded, already dizzy. “Lube. Top drawer. Lots of it.” Gabriel grabbed the bottle while Henry climbed onto the bed behind me. Big hands slid up my back, pressing me forward until I was on all fours.

I asked, suddenly feeling entirely exposed under her stare. “Too much?” Amy grabbed my shoulders and whirled me toward the three-way mirror. “Look at yourself! You look insanely sexy, Nova. You look like a fantasy.” A fantasy. The word struck a chord deep in my belly, bringing back the exact heat of the shower water, the slick friction of my own fingers, and the memory of Finn and Kelly tearing me apart. I imagined them seeing me in this. I imagined Finn ripping this crimson fabric open, or Kelly bunching it up around my waist to look at my wet pussy.

Olive groaned. "Darci, you play yourself down," she said. "If I were you, I would take the chance." "Well, why don't you do that with Nora?" I snapped back. "I saw you look at her with that creepy observant eyes of yours. Nora's a good player, isn't she?" "Darci, you're decent at baseball," Olive said. "But you're poor in the wordsmith department. Nora isn't good. She's sublime, incomparable, breathtaking, and graceful. Any woman who can play baseball like Nora is, in my opinion, a goddess."