It takes the mind, body, heart and broken rules to come back from the edge.
Celeste, a beautiful artist, is tired of crying and hiding. Survival instinct must override civility if she is to take charge of her life and her pain once more.
As she begins to emerge from the darkness, the men in her life can only stand by and wait for her summons. And not just any man will do -- She needs a man who understands that sometimes, there can be only one person in charge of a relationship... and it won't be him.
Warning: this title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language, ménage a trios’, violence, gay sex, bondage, and extreme kinkiness.
I watched the tiny raindrops sparkle like diamonds on my windshield. Cool night air tickled my cheek from the open window beside me, and the moon glowed dimly behind puffy clouds. I watched him jog to the car, his small body moving smoothly with fluid grace. He climbed into the passenger seat and turned to kiss me. I pulled back, looked into his brown eyes. "Is it done?" I asked, my voice hard.
He looked down and nodded.
"Show me."
"How about when we get to your place?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper. He looked up, and my eyes crushed him into his seat. His lower lip quivered and his hands shook slightly as he opened his khakis and exposed himself to me. My nipples crinkled against the soft cotton of my blouse, and I breathed deeply.
"Take them off," I said, my voice even harder.
"Someone will see. I'll get arrested," he stammered, his voice pleading, his eyes welling.
I raised my window and gestured around the tiny cabin of the Porsche. "With these windows? Don't be silly. Now take them off or get out."
He looked around at the heavily tinted windows and bit his lower lip. I watched as he kicked off his dock-siders and raised his ass from the seat. He awkwardly slid the pants down his slender legs and left them in a heap at his feet and sat back in the seat, now fully exposed.
"She did a nice job," I said, looking down at his manhood, now hairless thanks to the work of my waxer. "Hurt, didn't it?" I asked, a small smile playing on my lips.
He nodded, and a tear spilled down his cheek.
