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Kick OG Cover

Kick OG Cover

174 pages
Heat Level: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
$10.00 - $10.00
$10.00
$10.00 - $10.00
$10.00

Book One in the Forbidden Series

You know what a celebutante is. 

It’s a Paris Hilton. A Kim Kardashian.

Someone who’s famous for existing.
That’s me, and in case you were wondering what it’s like…trust me, it’s the best shit ever. I like coke and I like sex. I have the money to buy the first and the looks to get the second. No one needs to know where I am for days at a time and no one gives a fuck. That’s just the way I like it.
You got issue with that?  Good.
Because you think I have problems, and I don’t.
A problem would be defined as some situation in my life I didn’t arrange. Like having no money. That’s a problem, and I don’t have it. Like having a ton of sex I don’t totally enjoy. Also not my problem.

Now that we understand each other, you and me, we understand that my life is exactly how I want it, and you don’t have the right to hold me here. You can’t keep me in a straightjacket and you can’t put me in isolation. I’m too important. Too famous. 
*MATURE AUDIENCES – I mean it. Don’t come back to me with your therapy bills.

You know what a celebutante is. 
It’s a Paris Hilton. A Kim Kardashian.

Someone who’s famous for existing.
That’s me, and in case you were wondering what it’s like…trust me, it’s the best shit ever. I like coke and I like sex. I have the money to buy the first and the looks to get the second. No one needs to know where I am for days at a time and no one gives a fuck. That’s just the way I like it.
You got issue with that?  Good.
Because you think I have problems, and I don’t.
A problem would be defined as some situation in my life I didn’t arrange. Like having no money. That’s a problem, and I don’t have it. Like having a ton of sex I don’t totally enjoy. Also not my problem.

Now that we understand each other, you and me, we understand that my life is exactly how I want it, and you don’t have the right to hold me here. You can’t keep me in a straightjacket and you can’t put me in isolation. I’m too important. Too famous. 
*MATURE AUDIENCES – I mean it. Don’t come back to me with your therapy bills.

 

This is the ORIGINAL COVER from back when I was daring and arty.

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My ankles were shackled. The chain between them clicked when I rolled over, and the steel bit my anklebones when I rested my feet together.


My brain chemistry had been set for arousal at the touch of hard metal edges on my skin, and even though I felt a growing swirl of lust when I pressed my legs together, I was preoccupied. Deacon hadn’t put the leg irons on me, nor had I squeezed them tighter than I should, just to feel them holding me while he played me like a musician at an instrument.
I didn’t know what had happened. 


The last thing I remembered was rain.
No. The last thing I remembered was being in scene with Deacon and entering subspace, outside of myself, where pleasure and pain merged.