Chapter One
When Katerina cruised through the barroom doors, the last thing she expected was the Marilyn effect.
A sudden gust from Mother Nature and bad placement of the entry steps caused her skirt to shoot straight to her armpits. Based on the number of catcalls, more than the few seated by the door caught sight of her hot pink thong and bubble-shaped ass. Her nipples puckered to tight little points, no doubt blaringly visible, from the cold updraft and thin fabric of her blouse.
Of all damn nights.
Had Jeanine, her roommate and bestie since high school days, not dared her to meet during the middle of freaking winter for a blind date, she wouldn’t be standing here mortified as hell. Kat never accepted offers for blind dates. Never . No exceptions. With Jeanine acting a little depressed, Kat hadn’t the heart to turn down her plea that eventually became a dare for her to agree and join them. So here she stood jerking the flimsy fabric of her dress down as eagle-eyed drunks scanned the expanse of leg peeking from beneath. Hell, they’d already seen her ass and thong, what was a little thigh at this point?
Since her breakup with Sir Peckerhead, Kat had been in a major funk. If nothing else, PH had been seriously creative in bed. Sure, he had the attention span of a gnat and never spoke about a future, but most guys ran from such topics. Kat figured as time went on, things would change. Truth be known, Kat wasn’t a hundred percent sure she wanted long-term. At least not with PH--Pecker Head, as Jeanine had dubbed him. But when PH put the look on--the intense, I want to fuck expression--damned if her hormones didn’t send her running, shedding her clothes as she went.
Her ex happened to be a tall Adonis with a super sized ego to match his large frame. Thing was, Paul sported more than one large head. Their last interlude should have clued her something was amiss. Paul tried a few new moves, suggesting she play with her vibrator while he watched. Not uncommon, but the urgency in which he begged to video her as she did, well, that set her danger to high alert. Not enough to make her quit her task. Her little neon pink friend amply aided her in prepping for Paul and his not-so-normal size.
He’d grabbed her ankles, yanked her to the end of the bed then tossed her over his shoulder. Kat thought he’d head them toward the shower, but instead he opened up first the bedroom door, then the patio doors, not even caring if Jeanine was home or had company. Kat sensed the difference about him. As he urged her against the banister, buried his head between her legs with the sounds of car horns and chatter not far enough away for her liking, she’d started to protest. But hello, who wants to stop a dude when he’s eating Southern? Not her. He’d flipped her around in the next second and taken her from behind. His arm pulled her waist to cant her hips for optimum entry.
The push, stretch and eventual slide on a forceful thrust. Yeah the sex was hot. Different, even. After they’d both climaxed, he’d pecked her cheek, headed for the shower and thirty minutes later he was gone from her life.
“Kat, over here,” Jeanine shrieked from a rear booth of Pistachio.
Who names a place Pistachio? Kat thought, striding over while mustering up as much dignity as possible. From where they sat, Kat figured she had decent odds the group missed her indecent entry. She smoothed her long dark locks then her skirt one last time. She’d come dressed up but, short of a little mascara to accentuate her green eyes and a little lip-gloss, she was bare-faced, as she’d run out of time for anything more.
The two men stood as Kat neared the table. A ginger who was more carrot than the new politically correct term, and a man appearing a bit older, but far more buff and thankfully a lot less red. Now to pray that her date happened to be the older, fitter guy.
“Kat, this is Magnus”--Jeanine pointed to the freckled, fair-haired
When Katerina cruised through the barroom doors, the last thing she expected was the Marilyn effect.
A sudden gust from Mother Nature and bad placement of the entry steps caused her skirt to shoot straight to her armpits. Based on the number of catcalls, more than the few seated by the door caught sight of her hot pink thong and bubble-shaped ass. Her nipples puckered to tight little points, no doubt blaringly visible, from the cold updraft and thin fabric of her blouse.
Of all damn nights.
Had Jeanine, her roommate and bestie since high school days, not dared her to meet during the middle of freaking winter for a blind date, she wouldn’t be standing here mortified as hell. Kat never accepted offers for blind dates. Never . No exceptions. With Jeanine acting a little depressed, Kat hadn’t the heart to turn down her plea that eventually became a dare for her to agree and join them. So here she stood jerking the flimsy fabric of her dress down as eagle-eyed drunks scanned the expanse of leg peeking from beneath. Hell, they’d already seen her ass and thong, what was a little thigh at this point?
Since her breakup with Sir Peckerhead, Kat had been in a major funk. If nothing else, PH had been seriously creative in bed. Sure, he had the attention span of a gnat and never spoke about a future, but most guys ran from such topics. Kat figured as time went on, things would change. Truth be known, Kat wasn’t a hundred percent sure she wanted long-term. At least not with PH--Pecker Head, as Jeanine had dubbed him. But when PH put the look on--the intense, I want to fuck expression--damned if her hormones didn’t send her running, shedding her clothes as she went.
Her ex happened to be a tall Adonis with a super sized ego to match his large frame. Thing was, Paul sported more than one large head. Their last interlude should have clued her something was amiss. Paul tried a few new moves, suggesting she play with her vibrator while he watched. Not uncommon, but the urgency in which he begged to video her as she did, well, that set her danger to high alert. Not enough to make her quit her task. Her little neon pink friend amply aided her in prepping for Paul and his not-so-normal size.
He’d grabbed her ankles, yanked her to the end of the bed then tossed her over his shoulder. Kat thought he’d head them toward the shower, but instead he opened up first the bedroom door, then the patio doors, not even caring if Jeanine was home or had company. Kat sensed the difference about him. As he urged her against the banister, buried his head between her legs with the sounds of car horns and chatter not far enough away for her liking, she’d started to protest. But hello, who wants to stop a dude when he’s eating Southern? Not her. He’d flipped her around in the next second and taken her from behind. His arm pulled her waist to cant her hips for optimum entry.
The push, stretch and eventual slide on a forceful thrust. Yeah the sex was hot. Different, even. After they’d both climaxed, he’d pecked her cheek, headed for the shower and thirty minutes later he was gone from her life.
“Kat, over here,” Jeanine shrieked from a rear booth of Pistachio.
Who names a place Pistachio? Kat thought, striding over while mustering up as much dignity as possible. From where they sat, Kat figured she had decent odds the group missed her indecent entry. She smoothed her long dark locks then her skirt one last time. She’d come dressed up but, short of a little mascara to accentuate her green eyes and a little lip-gloss, she was bare-faced, as she’d run out of time for anything more.
The two men stood as Kat neared the table. A ginger who was more carrot than the new politically correct term, and a man appearing a bit older, but far more buff and thankfully a lot less red. Now to pray that her date happened to be the older, fitter guy.
“Kat, this is Magnus”--Jeanine pointed to the freckled, fair-haired
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