pale blue volume

Theresa watched the man beneath the oak as he turned a page of his book, wondering what he was reading. The book was cloth bound, no dust cover, just a pale blue volume with a glimmer of gold embossing. Theresa felt her nipples tighten, deciding the book was probably fiction, hoping against spies or adventure. Horror would be all right, although she preferred something with a vampire. Maybe something classic, rich with allusion and poetry. Theresa stretched her lean legs out, ticking her bare thighs with the thick carpet of grass. A warmth flowed between her legs, watching him read.

Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances

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About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
This entry was posted in books, fiction, literature, novels, quotes, reading, short stories, writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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