“I pray to burn in her fire, I pray to die in her arms.” The words sent a charge through him, like the electrical energy of a summer storm—crackling through the hazy, eucalyptus-drenched air, making the pulse quicken and the breath turn to shallow pants. It was intoxicating. Potent. He held his glass closer to his face, watching the rolling waves kiss the white sand beyond his private bungalow’s eastern balcony through the still scotch. “Yet the arms of her lover reach out for more,” he continued to sing on a murmur, closing his eyes, his dick—already half erect—twitching in his jeans. “Like a sinner I will burn in his fire. I will die in his fire as she pleads for—” “I don’t think she’s coming.” Aidan’s low voice, spoken from the balcony’s doorway, opened Nick’s eyes and he lifted his glass to his lips, swallowing the scotch—his first since Germany—in one mouthful. The liquor burned its way down his throat, a river of heat that did nothing to ease the unsettled nerves fluttering in his gut.
What do You think about Tropical Sin: Bandicoot Cove, Book 3 (2011)?
