TOXIC by HJ Bellus & Kathy Coopmans releases July 9th!
I’m toxic. She’s pure. I can’t stay away.
I saved a life by taking another. It throttled me into a vortex of endless darkness with booze and sex as my only solace.
Maria Richards brought light back into my life even through my drunken haze. For weeks, I treated her like trash. Felt guilty as hell the moment I left her bed and breakfast.
Life has a funny way of bringing back your past sins. A second chance with Maria stumbles in my path. It’s time to right my wrongs and be the man I burn to be.
I’ve never believed in redemption, and now it’s my only hope.
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“Top shelf whiskey. Any brand will do. Make it a double,” I mutter to the waitress when she saunters to my table. I’m not that far gone to start slurring yet.
“Will that be all?” She bends over enough for me to see the way her cleavage is enhanced above the lacy trim of the tight little corset hugging her skin. My dick stirs. If that little move wasn’t her open invitation that she’d be willing, then the message is loud and clear when she whispers my name.
“Ah, you remember me,” I carry on, leaning a little closer. Pretending to know her when my vacant mind hasn’t a clue.
“I do. It’s been a few months since you’ve been in here.” She winks, leaving me wondering if I fucked her. I’m not sure if I did, but I’m an idiot for forgetting a sexy woman with a tight ass like that. She is beautiful, and it’s obvious by the way she swings her hips that a commitment isn’t what she’s looking for. No lying, empty promises of sunrises and sunsets together. Just a night of dirty fucking. Just the kind of thing I need right now. Pussy and whiskey. It’s what I’ve been drowning in to get by day to day.
I hand her a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill when she returns. Slide my hand up her leg right underneath her tiny skirt. My fingers skim the lace trim of her panties until they’re in their happy place. She’s wet and ready to fuck. I pause when a woman who looks just like the sweet little thing from the bed and breakfast brushes past her. My hand flies out of the waitress’ skirt.
“What the hell? What’s wrong?” the now-forgotten waitress asks.
“Nothing. Keep the change,” I dismiss her, take a sip of my drink, and search the room. When I don’t see my vision anywhere, I lean back, my mind in chaos wondering if I’m drunker than I thought. “Who the fuck even cares?”
I lift the glass to my lips as a single spotlight hits the stage. I choke when the woman who I have wrapped my hand around my dick to more than any other fantasy graces the stage. The light is shimmering down on all her beauty.
“It can’t be.” But it sure the hell is. Brown, long, wavy locks fall over one shoulder, the other side giving me a teasing hint of her smooth, bare flesh. She is gorgeous. Her long black dress tightly hugs her breasts and flows to the floor. It’s her. The smart-mouthed woman from Montana. The one woman who I’d enjoy watching a sunrise or a sunset with.
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KATHY COOPMANS ➡
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