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This book contains two of the things I love above all else: excessive amounts of the ‘F’ word and a good chase. She pushes, he pulls, and their chemistry goes BOOM. So please, if either of these things bother you, don’t come looking for me. I’m not liable to be sued for broken tablet screens. I am just an innocent bystander in all of this.
How do I dominate and enamor the woman who’s in charge of signing my paycheck?
That’s the one question, Joshua Timbers, has been asking himself since he first stepped foot into his own personal Hell. JT, or Yoshi—as his tormentor likes to call him—has lived a life of hardship and loss since an early age. Being the product of a single parent home, he’s accustomed to hard work and lonely nights.
Seeing the strong man that raised him suffer after the loss of his mother made JT’s own heart harden. All that mattered was seeking instant gratification to curve his enormous appetite.
Until the blessed day he met his fallen angel, Janelle.
Beautiful, and with balls bigger than her entire crew, Janelle is accustomed to the leering looks of men, even though she’s their boss—the owner of Walker Constructions, alongside her brother.
Her beauty is untouchable to everyone, but how far will Joshua go to bend his hellion to his will and make her his?
What was hell?
If you asked a member of any church today, they’d say it was nightmarish— a dark and gloomy place filled with horrific images and boughs of endless pain. A place where demons roamed freely, feeding off the dregs of the deceased.
A part of humanity that lost its moral compass: the common sinner.
These pour souls sinned in order to achieve greatness; sold their very essence to attain the vanity-filled dreams everyone covets. And now they lived in eternal pain.
Then there were those we called our loved ones. Targeted, they lost the small morsel of their souls that made them good. It made them an easy target.
At the very least, that was what the religious people of the world claimed. Wanted us to believe.
Neither of those descriptions meant shit to me. Religion never mattered much. Not when you’d lost so much and witnessed firsthand just what losing faith did to a person.
I wasn’t most people.
Most had chosen to believe the words drilled into their minds from an early age, but I knew better. Hell wasn’t somewhere dark where the eternal flames glowed and the sinners were condemned to— to pay for the unforgivable deeds of their past life. Acts that were unforgivable in the eyes of the church.
In my reality, though, that was a blatant lie.
Hell was here, surrounding us day in and day out. We paid for our sins in life, not death. One way or another, karma would collect those that wronged another. No one, no matter who the fuck they were, could escape this bitch named life.
Problem was that no matter how much I looked at my current situation, I was at a loss. What the fuck had I done to deserve her?
My hell, the one that tortured me while both awake and asleep, wasn’t dark or terrifying. It wasn’t painful in the general sense. Well, that was unless you counted the pain my cock had suffered to be life threatening. I guess it could be considered cruel; she loved to torture me when I couldn’t react or make her pay.
“You are here to work, not fuck me. My pussy’s not on your daily task sheet!”
I’d never been so hard… so fucking swollen, as I’d been in her presence. Twitching and pulsating against the zipper of my Levi’s, I hurt, and she refused to right the wrong she’d created.
“I don’t fuck my employees… not even the promising outline of your big cock will change that.”
You see, my personal hell was all wrapped up in a lustful package. A body created by God himself, made for the sole purpose of fucking up my quiet and ordinary life. This woman brought me down to my knees— demanded that I pay on a daily basis for the lustful thoughts and impulses she, herself, caused.
And I would gladly repent daily, on my knees at her temple, if she would just give in to me. My version of hell was a woman. A cock tease. A woman whose inner and outer beauty surpassed the normal standard society had deemed appropriate. Janelle was a temptress, my personal mistress.
Elena M. Reyes was born and raised in Miami Florida. She is the epitome of a Floridian and if she could live in her beloved flip-flops, she would.
As a small child, she was always intrigued with all forms of art—whether it was dancing to island rhythms, or painting with any medium she could get her hands on. Her first taste of writing came to her during her fifth grade year when her class was prompted to participate in the D. A. R. E. Program and write an essay on what they’d learned.
Her passion for reading over the years has amassed her with hours of pleasure. It wasn’t until she stumbled upon fanfiction that her thirst to write overtook her world. She now resides in Central Florida with her husband and son, spending all her down time letting her creativity flow and letting her characters grow.
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