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Thursday July 31st 2014

Mandy M. Roth

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Michelle M. Pillow

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Insider

History of Our Insanity

Did we really say that?

Freaks come out at Night (bad boys of the night)

Snippet from Gypsy Nights by Mandy M Roth

Gitana divided the mint rhizomes out carefully on the countertop. She glanced at the parent plant and bent down to take in a deep breath. The scent of peppermint never got old. She concentrated on cutting the runners into the sizes needed to replant them. She was just about to make another snip when the bell dinged, signaling a customer was in the shop. Dusting her hands off, she exhaled and gave them a quick swipe across her smock before reaching up to adjust her falling hair.

Hours had been dedicated to trying to unlock the secrets of keeping her unruly hair up, but after twenty-nine years it was still a mystery. It was hard to fight the gift Mother Nature had given her—hair that seemed to grow faster than a weed. She shrugged and gave up.

Oh well, you can’t flaunt what you don’t have.

Leaving the greenhouse, she headed into her tiny herb shop. It provided her with enough income to pay her bills and she enjoyed it. “Be right with you,” she called out, hurrying to hang her smock on a hook and adjust her hair—again.

“Take your time,” a deep male voice replied, rolling over her, through her, before finally settling in the apex of her thighs. Never before had a man’s voice caused such a reaction in her. It caught her by surprise to say the least.

Gitana glanced up and drew in a deep breath. Every now and then she’d get a health-conscious hot guy who wanted to jump on the homeopathic bandwagon, but never had she had a man as stunning as this one walk in before. The tall stranger stood smiling at her just inside the doorway. His onyx hair hung in loose curls over his shoulders and blended in with his black leather jacket.

He slid a pair of leather gloves off his pale hands. His long fingers seemed to caress the shell they’d been enclosed in. Whoever he was, he’d managed to turn the simple task of removing a glove into an erotic moment. She’d never wished to be a pair of Italian gloves before in her life, but now she did. The thought of having his long fingers sheathed inside her was almost too much. Her pussy practically ached at the imagery.

“Umm, hello? Is there anything I can do to you—I mean, for you? Can I help you?” Gitana rolled her eyes, slightly embarrassed by her slip of the tongue. A slow, devilish smile crept onto his handsome face and she reddened.

Great, blush a little more, why don’t you?

He took a step toward her. “Oui, I was told you were the woman to see if I wanted to start my own herb garden.” His voice was laced with a heavy French accent that seemed very fitting to him. There was a certain aristocratic edge about him, as if he descended from a long line of powerful, influential men.

She gave him a sideways glance. He didn’t seem like the gardening type. No, he seemed more like the millionaire, international-playboy type. Jet-setting and yachts came to mind when looking at him—not herb gardens. But if he really wanted one, she’d help.

“Sure, what size garden do you have in mind…?” She didn’t have a name to address him by, so she let her question just fade away.

Je m’appelle,” he said, stopping and shaking his head slightly. “Pardon, I did not mean to be rude. My name is Sebastian Rolle. I purchased the house across the way.” He pointed out toward the woods. “I am thinking of having several gardens put in.”

Yep, just as she thought, he wasn’t the gardening type. He probably already had a crew of twenty men waiting for him to tell them where to dig. “You can have your landscaper call me. I’d be happy to help him out with what he needs.”

His brow furrowed. “Je ne comprends pas—I do not understand. I have no landscaper. I will be handling all of this on my own.”

She let out a tiny laugh and covered her mouth, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Much to her dismay, he did. “Do you find that amusing, Madame…?”

“Gitana,” she corrected, walking out from behind her counter and extending her hand to him. “Sorry, no, I don’t find it funny. It’s just that you don’t strike me as the type who’d want to get dirty.”

“Getting dirty is one of my many specialties.” He slid his cool hand over hers and cupped it gently. For having had gloves on, Sebastian’s hands were like ice. She knew just the place to warm them but refrained from commenting. Already it was difficult not to let on what effect he was having on her. Acting a fool over men who visited her shop wasn’t something she was prone to, yet Sebastian seemed to bring that out in her.

Her gaze remained glued on him, memorizing his pale skin, the ridges in his body and the way his ink-black hair looked against his shirt collar. The man was delicious and out of her league. He’d make for something good to think about later, when she ran her fingers over her clit, trying to bring pleasure back into her absentee sex life. It would be easy to picture him above her as his hard body rode her. Her nipples ached for his touch, to know what it would be like to truly have those hands skimming her body, those fingers dipping into her tight cunt. Goddess, she wanted him in ways she’d not remembered wanting another man. Even just thinking of him in such a manner embarrassed her. She wasn’t a woman to fantasize about men she didn’t know. Okay, any man for that matter. Mostly, she just did what needed to be done in order to give herself an orgasm and then was done with it. No muss. No fuss.

It took her a moment to focus, her thoughts still running wild with a vision of the newcomer sliding his fingers into her before making room to dip his cock in. Pulling away slowly, she noticed she’d left dirt on his hand. She waited for him to try to find a place on his designer shirt to wipe it but he just glanced down and smiled.

“Looks like I am well on my way to being an avid gardener,” he offered, his lips curving up just enough to show only the faintest hint of pearly white teeth. Men weren’t supposed to come like him. No. They weren’t supposed to be walking temptation.

Not only had he been built that way, he was, apparently, her new neighbor. “You bought the old McGregor estate?”

Sebastian nodded. “Oui, it needs quite a bit of work but what can I say? I fell in love with it.” He brushed his hair back and exposed the most striking pair of celestial blue eyes she’d ever seen. Long, thick lashes that had been kissed by midnight framed them, holding her attention. He winked at her and made her jump. A nervous laugh escaped her. “Would you mind if I use your restroom? They will not have my water on for some time yet. I attempted to find other accommodations for the night, however, it seems this quaint little town has none.”

“Sure, umm, you’ll have to use the one in my house. The one here in the shop has been acting up for weeks now. I’ve been meaning to call someone. With spring just around the corner, I’ve been too busy.” Gitana led him into her home, thinking it odd the way he hesitated before passing the threshold, waiting for her to invite him in. He came and she showed him to the restroom, leaving and giving him privacy as she headed to the kitchen.

It was strange having a man in her home again. Since her divorce, men frequented her shop, but none had been in her home. And no man had caught her attention the way Sebastian had. The urge to head toward the bathroom door was great but she resisted, concentrating instead on preparing hot water for tea for her guest.

When he emerged, he nearly scared the daylights out of her because of how quiet his entrance had been. She’d never heard a peep. One second she was alone in the kitchen and the next, Sebastian was there.

Her fingers danced over her collarbone as her heart beat madly in her chest. “Some tea?”

Merci,” he responded, taking a seat at the table. He seemed too big for it, which was surprising since it wasn’t exactly small. Then again, Sebastian Rolle was a large man. Everything about him demanded attention.

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