Blaze St. Sebastian. His name had presence just sitting
there all by itself. Attach the rest of the man to it, and she’d definitely be
toast! She could never discern what was more awe inspiring about him—when there
was just so much to choose from. His impressive stature was obviously,
well—impressive.
The broad shoulders covered in intricate tattoos were the
perfect shelf for the long, still jet, black hair. His long lean legs wrapped
up like a beautifully kinky gift in black leather were the perfect trail
leading to his boots—oh how she could kneel in front of those for days.
All the wonders of Blaze were worthy of note, but all that
glorious manliness paled in comparison to her favorite parts. Always tied for
first place were his incredible face and his well-deep, blade-sharp dark and
dirty—mind.
His face looked to have been chiseled by angels and demons—in
tandem for one day—for one colossal and unblemished project. His eyes were the
perfect color of the water surrounding her beloved gazebo, and in them a fire
raged amidst the tides. His lips were full and flawless and looked so delicious
when he spoke. Oh God, his voice, how
could I forget that voice? Oh hell, leave it to a man named after two
saints to make me want to sin so… fucking… much!
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