For shit’s sake, it wasn’t like there was a twelve-step for being the Scribe Virgin’s kid: Hi, I’m Vishous. I’m her son and I’ve been her son for three hundred years. HI, VISHOUS. She’s done a head job on me again, and I’m trying not ...
Butch tightened his grip on his cell and wished there were an app that let you reach through a phone and bitch slap someone.
What’s next? The size of my cock?” “Hey, even pencils can get the job done—I’ve heard the moaning from your room to prove it.
I would do anything for you. Anything." With that, he pushed his way out...and as the door eased shut, she realized that I love you could indeed be said without actually uttering the phrase. Actions did mean more than words.
And for all he had learned to bandage himself up on the outside, the wound remained just as bad and deep as the moment it had been made - when it became obvious that the one male he wanted above all others was never, ever going to be with him.
There was pain, and then there was PAIN. This was -Vishous
