As the sole heiress to the Chauncy Perfume Withersmoot fortune, Rebecca Ravendark moves into a Danish castle where she meets a gruff, mysterious but handsome gardener named Blunt Headtrauma. Against her uncle's wishes she begins an erotic, haunting, dark, erotic, erotic odyssey of forbidden, mysterious eroticness. From BESTSELLING* author Hank Kirton, comes the fifth book in the EROTIC HAUNTY PARANORMAL ROMANCE SERIES; REBECCA RAVENDARK'S DARK CURSE OF DARK EROTICRY...
"Oh, Blunt! You frightened me. I didn't see you there."
"Didn't you, Rebecca?"
"No. I didn't."
"How about now?" He stepped toward her with his loins.
"Yes. I see you now." Rebecca felt a stirring in her clam. It felt like Christmas in Delaware.
Blunt grabbed her forcefully. She could smell his masculine man-sweat. He smelled like a stallion after a close race at Suffolk Downs.
"No, please!" Rebecca cried. Her breasts both heaved. Blunt's eyes slid like salamanders to her decolletage. Her bosom was ample. Like abundant pumpkins in late October.
"But is this not what you wanted?" he said. His teeth were perfectly straight. Rebecca marveled at his orthodontia. “Please don’t tease me Rebecca. I like being teased about as much as a badger likes being denied Fig Newtons.”
"Yes, I know but I...wait, what?”
Blunt just looked at her with both eyes. His eyes were dark and filled with lust. But she also saw danger in his eyes. And buttermilk. Then she remembered his penis and two testicles.
“Never mind. Come Blunt. Follow me to the solarium."
Blunt grinned at her with his mouth. "Sounds like a plan."
“You betcha, Ace.”
--from, The Dark Erotic Haunting of Rebecca Ravendark
*Apparently you can just call yourself "bestselling" whether it's true or not, so wtfn?
This is one of the greatest photographs ever taken.
I feel stupid
Gonna grab my gun
And shoot my brain
Grease my pistol
Load the clip
Cock the hammer
Drink a nip
Stick the barrel
In my mouth
Send my scalp
You wretched fuck
But he’s out of luck
Void where prohibited