I’m silent. I’m trained. I’m lethal.
My hand skimming down your thigh, my gaze a weapon—I know more ways to kill you than please you.
But you’re not paying for my aim. You’re paying for my control. Bringing you a breath away from ecstasy, watching you beg as I hold back your release, I’ll show you exactly what you’ve been missing. Your hunger is my currency and five thousand is my price. I only have one rule—no repeats, because I’m not for keeps. I’m for sale.
One slow grind and I’ll give you exactly what you paid for.
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Sybil grew up in Northern California with her head in a book and her feet in the sand. She used to dream of becoming a painter but the heady scent of libraries with their shelves full of books about wistful summer days and first loves drew her into the world of storytelling.
Sybil now resides in Southern Florida and while she doesn't get to read as much a…