A review of what is possibly the worst romantic fiction ever perpetrated.
“Everything you see and feel is real, milady,” my knight says, caressing my bare back with his hands. “That, I promise you. If you desire proof, you only need consider the three very real climaxes you just had in your lady-softness.”
My eyes fly wide. “How did you know I came three times?”
He grins wider. “Your lady-softness told me herself when she was wrapped round my codpiece.”
