With slow, precise moves, he rubbed his eyes open to find nothing familiar around him. “By Nero’s fiddle, where the hell am I?” Reece winced as even his whispered words caused the pounding in his head to reach a crescendo. “Well, Romeo, your drunk ass passed out in my bed early this morning. I’ll die a grateful woman since at least you didn’t kick in your sleep. Though the number of magical and paranormal references you kept dropping felt more like Noah and the flood.” The husky, irritated feminine voice caressed his skin while jerking his cock to attention. Too quickly, Reece swung his head to follow the sound of her voice. Pain made his eyes water, while the vision lounging in the doorway simply took his breath away. Sable curls tumbled down in a delightful mess as green eyes glared at him. His hostess seemed reluctant, to say the least, but everything about the lushly curved beauty called to him until the pain in his cock overrode the pounding in his head. White cotton covered all those important areas humans seemed so fixated on—though their opinions and ideals changed rapidly from century to century, so who knew if she was being shockingly immodest or simply comfortable in her delicious-looking skin?
