The Golden Pecker
Penelope Bloom
Questionable. Highly questionable.
He needed to take me to see “The Golden Pecker”.
Fortunately, it was in the basement, not his pants.
Turns out my late grandfather was running a BDSM club.
I know what you're thinking. Don't follow a stranger into the basement. More importantly, absolutely don't follow strangers who want to show you their “golden peckers.”
But I might have literally died of curiosity if I passed this up.
Sure, there was a chance of murder, abduction, and all sorts of horror. Then again, living with the endless questions would be its own special kind of hell. What kind of self-respecting man calls it a pecker? And what did all of this have to do with my late grandfather’s will?
The other problem was I couldn’t be sure if Landon Collins was plotting my murder, or if he just had resting hot guy face — broody eyes, a sharp jaw, and full lips made for cruel smiles.
Was I ignoring a few dozen red flags? Absolutely. But last time I checked, curiosity was only notorious for killing cats.
So I followed his firm ass straight to The Golden Pecker.
Sponsored links
romance tags
