by Kendall Grey
I laugh and make my way to my bed. I throw back the curtain. Lying atop my comforter is a coffee mug that says “#1 Mom” in huge red letters. Curled inside is a note scribbled in Letty’s messy writing:
Dear Mom,
Thanks for making all my ouchies go away and for driving me to work every day. Well, not really driving me. Freddie does that. But you make sure I get where I need to go.
You feed me. You clean up after me. You give me an allowance. You’re the best mom ever.
Happy birthday to me.
Love,
Letty
P.S. Toombs picked out the mug. He said you love coffee more than you love cigarettes. How did I not know this?
With a huge smile, I hug the cup to my chest. Those fuckers.
I suppose they’re all getting off somewhere inside the Armstrong Suites. We’ll have Letty’s party tomorrow. I head in the main entrance, up the elevator, and open the door to my room.
Exhausted, I quickly brush my teeth and settle naked under the fluffy covers. Because when do I ever get to be naked anymore? Despite my state of tiredness, my mind is busy processing the day’s events. Naturally, it wanders repeatedly to Ave Marie.
I roll over.
There she is.
I turn the other way.
There she is.
I flop to my stomach.
Still here.
Return to my back and stare at the ceiling.
The woman won’t leave me alone.
So, I try to scare her away. I slip my hand down my front, slowly, imagining it’s hers. When I reach the wetness between my legs, I glide easily inside. Then out. Then in.
Before I realize where this is going, a ravaging orgasm stabs my eyeballs, twisting my hips clean off the bed, leaving me heaving for breath.
“What the fuck?” I moan when the dizziness ebbs minutes later.
Well, fancy that. Contrary to popular, self-destructive belief, I don’t need Lizzie to get off after all.
As the rush of endorphins floods the underside of my skin, I snatch my phone off the charger beside the bed and dial Ave Maria’s number from memory. I want to keep her close while I ride the ebb out to sea.
“¿Bueno?” she answers, prolonging my pleasure with the simple greeting. I’m a twisted whore for calling her right this minute. And I don’t even care.
“Hi, Ave Maria. It’s Jillian Frost from Killer Buzz Float. Sorry to call so late.”
“It’s no problem,” she says.
“I spoke with the band today,” I fib, “and if you want the job, it’s yours.”
“I do,” comes her pleased, throaty purr. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”
My tits tingle. “Perfect.”
Stay Frosty.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Amy Queau for the beautiful cover, to Jenn Sommersby Young for editing, to Tamara Witika for the name and backstory for Ave Maria, and to you, reader, for taking a chance on Jillian and me.
About the Author
A whale warrior, indie freedom fighter, and vodka martini aficionado, Kendall Grey is calm like an F-bomb*. She writes urban fantasy, rock star erotica, erotic suspense/thrillers, apocalyptic science fiction, and action/adventure stories. Swashbuckling cowboy priests in latex chaps are next on her to-write list**.
Kendall lives off a dirt road near Atlanta, Georgia with three mischievous Demonlings, a dashing geek in cyber armor, a long-haired miniature Dachshund that thinks she’s a cat, and an Aussie shepherd mix whose ice-blue eyes will steal your heart and hold it for ransom.
*Detonation manual not included.
**Just kidding about the cowboy priests. Someone probably already did that.
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Connect with Kendall:
www.kendallgrey.com
[email protected]
Also by Kendall Grey
Alpha Prez and the First Lady’s Secret Weapon
Ghosts
Hard Rock Harlots Series
Strings
Beats
Nocturnes
Love Notes
Rock
Bang
Just Breathe Series
Inhale
Exhale
Just Breathe
Stifle
Letting Go
Dirty
Vexxed
’Ohana Series
Hot-Blooded
From Howling Mad Press
Coming Out by Seven Slade
Graffiti City: Cummageddon
Issue 1, A License to Jizz by Thor Cox
Issue 2, The Spy Who Jizzed Me by Thor Cox
Issue 3, Thunderjizz by Thor Cox
Issue 4, Live and Let Jizz by Thor Cox
Issue 5, Jizzraker by Thor Cox