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Oh, I'm sorry. Did I interrupt some sort of dominance foreplay?

Kim Harrison

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Kim Harrison
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Midwest
Wyoming
Dawn Cook
Foreplay
Interrupt
Dominance
Sorry
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My office is trashed,” he grumped as he squished across his damp carpet and took the coffee that I was holding out to him. “Why are you smiling? My fish are dead.
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Big lots,' I said, seeing the eighty-year-old oaks and shady lawns. The houses were set way back and had iron fences and stone drives. The harder to hear your neighbors scream, my dear,' was David’s answer, and I sent my head up and down in agreement.
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Good God,” I whispered, sitting on the van’s cot and looking at my legs, horrified. They were hairy—not wolf hairy, but an I-couldn’t-find-my-razor-the-last-six-months hairy. Utterly grossed out, I took a peek at my armpit, jerking away. Oh, that’s just…nasty.
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She’s not much of a team player, more of a team yeller.
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Typical Kisten said, his eyes dramatically sad. Try to do something nice for a person, cheer her up, and what do I get? Abused and robbed.
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My eyes widened at the ball of orange fluff squeezing out from under the counter, blinking and stretching. I looked again, not believing. “It’s a cat,” I said, winning the Pulitzer prize for incredible intellect.
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And I’m not spying! I’m evaluating!” “It’s the same difference!
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Tinks titties Rache Jenks
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Married pixy, I told myself, forcing my eyes back to the shelf of ceramic animals. Fifty-four kids. Beautiful wife, sweet as sugar, who would kill me in my sleep while apologizing for it.
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I'd never seen a man who could outshop me, but Jenks was a master.
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You had this all planned, didn’t you?' I accused. 'Thought you could come in here and seduce me like you do everyone else?' It wasn’t as if I could be angry, lying atop him as I was, but I tried.
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People ask me what I do in my spare time, and I look at them blankly, truly believing that I don't even have spare time, and if I did, I'd probably use it for something mundane, like chipping away at the mound of laundry rising to dangerous proportions in the back room.
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Ku’Sox was indeed a demon. In. The. Sun. I needed answers, but I wanted them from Al, not…Cute Socks here.
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Come on, Rachel! Jenks shrilled. You're a badass, not a bad witch!
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I am black,” she said, and a shudder rippled through me. “I am foul with a thousand years of demon curses. Don’t cross me or I will bring you and your house down. Rachel is the only clean thing I have, and you won’t sully her to further your high ideas.
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Five trolls in a dra-a-a-a-ag,' the four-inch man sang from my shoulder. 'Four purple condoms, three French ticklers, two horny vamps and a succubus in the snow.
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Oh for the sweet humpin' love of Tink! ~ Jenks
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He's going to hurt you, Al said, looking at Pierce. I can take care of you, teach you to survive. Be there for you, even if you do hate me. I shivered. I don't want him, I said, and Al turned away, seeming smaller somehow.
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Happy endings were never handed out. You had to fight for them, earn them with bruised hearts and sacrifices.
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Rachel knew what she was doing. And when she didn't, she could improvise on the fly, coming up with options that left a lot of collateral damage but usually only hurt herself, not the people around her. It was one of the things he would never admit that he admired about her.
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