You Have to Wait...

When you’re in public, you know you shouldn’t but they’re looking at you, wanting you as much as you’re wanting them and you can’t stop.  You grab them, grinding and touching in desperation.  Just a little relief of the ache, the pressure inside you to take them and mark them as yours for the first time or the hundredth time.  Like a teenager with no control, ready to explode with just…a…little…more…

Morning Sex - Random Thoughts by Shayne M

You're sleeping right now...hard as a rock.  I'm sitting here watching you, waiting for you to wake up.  Your eyes flutter open and you give me that sleepy smile I love so much.  I climb on top of you, positioning your cock against my pussy, lowering myself onto you.  Watching your face as I begin gliding up and down your lovely dick.  Your hands grip into my thighs as excitement and pleasure wash over you.  Leaning over to kiss your face, your shoulders, your neck while I fuck you.  Knowing when you're about to cum and speeding up - building the tension.  You tense, body going harder and tighter as you explode into me.  I clutch your cock, not stopping, not slowing.  Dragging out your orgasm as long as possible, milking you with strong inner muscles.  You give a final throb inside me and I join you, gasping as you take over the rhythm, pushing me on and on.  Later, lying on you as you stroke my back and neck, a light sheen of sweat covering us both.  Having your fingers slide into my hair and pulling my face to yours for an assault on my lips.  The absolute PERFECT good morning.  The day can't start in a better way. 


Ways to Follow Me OFF Facebook

All the class, none of the censorship.  

BLOG:  http://alwaysthefuckinggoodgirl.blogspot.com/
TWITTER:  https://twitter.com/#!/WhatShayneWants
TUMBLR:  http://whatshaynewants.tumblr.com/

Miss you all!

And the Censorship Continues

Seems Facebook has now even taken my profile picture.  I honestly have to laugh at the blatant censorship of my page.  Considering my stuff is tame in comparison to other pages, this has gone beyond reason.  I'm utterly frustrated.  I've emailed Facebook twice without response.  Anyone have any suggestions? 

Ready to scream, 
Shayne M


What is Perfection?

Finding almost 1,000 like-minded people in less than one week.  People who don't blast me with hate-speech when I post my thoughts or write about what makes me tick (whether they believe the same way or not).

Men who like curvy women and photos featuring more gentle touches than hard-core going at it (which you can get ANYWHERE these days).  Who make me laugh with their honesty and "no bullshit" guyness.  Even men who enjoy the male pics more always weigh in with great comments about the female body or how they think women should be treated.  Each of you are a credit to your gender and it is such a pleasure to see what you're going to post next.

Women who laugh with me about blow jobs and body hair - who, like me, aren't afraid to use phrases like, "I'd tap that" or "I'll take two".  You make me feel like I'm not alone - a gift that can't be measured since we all feel like freaks when we're alone sometimes.  Have we all had our dings in life?  Sure.  But none of you rant and act all bitter.  You make me laugh - you make me think - and I love that.

This past week has truly boggled my mind.  You've made me happier than you can possibly know.  I'm never going to know each and every one of you individually (paired with my horrible memory for names...my "oh, look, a kitty" mentality doesn't help) but I like connecting with you anyway.

Your overall tolerance - no matter what I post, your sense of humor, and your intelligence in discussing any and every topic...I just don't know how I got so lucky.  Even with the bans (I believe I've banned the primary culprit), I can't really stay mad.  Every time I go on - you're making me laugh again.

To each of you who spread the news about my page so quickly - THANK YOU.  This exceeded my expectations in every possible way.  I'm thinking about writing a book about this...no worries - I'd never use names or anything.  It would be fiction, based on what you've shared with me.  I hope you continue to share with me.

Much love,

Shayne M



I know many of you on my Always the F**king Good Girl Facebook page have wondered what makes one form of submission different from another.  I mentioned that some people “dabble”.  Some, like me, have taken it more seriously but nowhere near how deeply some entrench themselves in the BDSM lifestyle.  I, as the majority of those in the lifestyle, fluctuated between 1 (initially) to 6 (with my last Dom).  No matter what some will try to say, levels 7, 8, and 9 require submersion and release of self on a level that most human beings simply aren't comfortable with.  More on that later if you’re interested.

With that said, I found the perfect article to clarify it for you.  This is basically a copy/paste from an article written in 1984/1988 by Diane Vera.  I've fixed the spelling and grammar mistakes because they make me insane.  You can find it in its entirety here.  


Within the S/M subculture, different people use the words "submissive and slave" to mean many different things.  When submissives say "I want to be your slave," sometimes they mean only that they want to be tied up and whipped.  At the other extreme, there are people who want to be full-time personal servants, who truly want to exist solely for their Dom (male) or Domme's (female) use, pleasure, and convenience.  There are many shades in between these two extremes.

  1.  THE OUTRIGHT NON-SUBMISSIVE MASOCHIST or KINKY SENSUALIST.  Not into servitude, humiliation, or giving up control; just pain and/or spiced-up sensuality, on the masochist's own terms and for the masochist's own direct pleasure (i.e. turned on solely/mainly by one's own bodily sensations rather than by being "used" to gratify one's partner's sadism).
  2. PSEUDO-SUBMISSIVE NON-SLAVE.  Not into even playing "slave" but into other "submissive" role-playing, e.g. schoolteacher scenes, infantilism, "forced" transvestism.  Usually into humiliation, but NOT into servitude, even in play.  Dictates the scene to a large degree.
  3. PSEUDO-SUBMISSIVE PLAY SLAVE.  Likes to play at being a slave; likes to feel subservient; may in some cases like to feel one is being "used" to gratify partner's sadism; may even really serve the dominant in some ways, but only on the "slave's" own terms.  Dictates the scene to a large degree; often fetishistic (e.g. foot worshippers).
  4. TRUE SUBMISSIVE NON-SLAVE.  Really gives up control (only temporarily and within agreed-upon limits), but gets her/his main satisfaction from aspects of submission other than serving or being used by the dominant. Usually turned on by suspense, vulnerability, and/or giving up responsibility.  Doesn't dictate the scene except in very general terms, but still seeks mainly her/his own direct pleasure (rather than getting one's pleasure mainly from pleasing the dominant).
  5. TRUE SUBMISSIVE PLAY SLAVE.  Really gives up control (though only temporarily; only during brief "scenes" and within limits) and gets main satisfaction from serving/being used by dominant-but only for FUN purposes, usually erotic.  May/may not be into pain.  If so, is turned on by pain indirectly, i.e. enjoys being the object of one's partner's sadism, on which the submissive places very few requirements or restrictions.
  6. UNCOMMITTED SHORT-TERM BUT MORE THAN PLAY SEMI-SLAVE.  Really gives up control (usually within limits); wants to serve and be used by the dominant; wants to provide practical/non erotic as well as fun/erotic services; but only when the "slave" is in the mood.  May even act as a full-time slave for, say, several days at a time, but is free to quit at any time (or at the end of the agreed upon several days).  May or may not have long-term relationship with one's Mistress, but, either way, the "slave" has the final say over when she will serve.
  7. PART-TIME CONSENSUAL-BUT REAL SLAVE.  Has an ongoing commitment to an owner/slave relationship and regards oneself as the dominant's property at all times. Wants to obey and please Dom(me) in all aspects of life-practical/non erotic and fun/erotic.  Devotes most of time to other commitments (e.g. job) but Dom(me) has first pick of the slave's free time.
  8. FULL-TIME LIVE IN CONSENSUAL SLAVE.  Within no more than a few broad limits/requirements, the slave regards herself/himself as existing solely for the Dom(me)'s pleasure/well being.  Slave in turn expects to be regarded as a prized possession.  Not much different from the situation of the traditional housewife, except that within the S/M world the slave's position is more likely to be fully consensual, especially of the slave is male.  Within the S/M world, a full time "slave" arrangement is entered into with an explicit awareness of the magnitude carefully, with more awareness of the magnitude of power that is being given up, and hence is usually entered into much more carefully, with more awareness of the possible dangers, and with much clearer and more specific agreements than usually precede the traditional marriage.
  9.  CONSENSUAL TOTAL SLAVE WITH NO LIMITS.  A common fantasy ideal which probably doesn't exist in real life (except in authoritarian religious cults and other situations where the "consent" is induced by brainwashing and/or social or economic pressures, and hence isn't fully consensual).  A few S/M purists will insist that you aren't really a slave unless you're willing to do absolutely anything for your Dom(me), with no limits at all.  I've met a few people who claimed to be no-limit slaves, but in all cases I have reason to doubt the claim.

Kiss My Ass Censorship

Darlings, in response to having two classy, black and white photos removed from my Facebook page, I've created a special page here on Always the Fucking Good Girl for them.  I'll keep adding those photos that speak to me but are apparently too grown-up for social media to handle.  Enjoy the Photo Gallery.  

Much love,
Shayne M


Loves Me, Hates Me

He loved me hard, painfully
Hurting me, each time worse
A vicious cycle over and over
I was weak

The last loving was better
He’d hurt me bad the night before
So sorry in the morning
He was weak

The next night I seduced him
Owned him
For the first time in our relationship
I was strong

I rode him again and again
Sweat pouring from our bodies
He kept my pace
He was strong

I pulled his release from him
Made him scream my name
Told him what to do
I was happy

Afterward he held me
I worshipped him with words
How he was my everything
He was happy

The next morning I made coffee
Brought him a steaming cup
Served it to him in bed
I was smiling

I wanted to play a game
To tie him up and enjoy him
I knotted the silk scarves tight
He was smiling

I rose from the bed
Dressed and packed my things
Watched him from the doorway
I was angry

He began to see through the game
Cursed me and threatened me
Tried to break his bonds
He was angry

Left on a bus to another town
Got on another bus going west
Then south, then east, then north
I was afraid

He stayed in our bedroom, in our home
Bound to our marriage bed
Screaming, cursing, and crying
He was afraid

I traveled for days to nowhere
Finally to somewhere, always disguised
Using cash I’d horded for six years
I was ashamed

On day two, I sent texts to his friends
Using disposable phones on the road
They found him in filth and tears
He was ashamed

I left a letter in our bank deposit box
I’d sent another to the police station
Photos, texts, video over the years
I was clever

I kept records of when he’d hurt me
He’d never left marks
No one ever suspected a thing
He was clever

Now I am thousands of miles away
New name, new look, new life
Paid for with my blood, but no more
I AM FREE and he will never be

Vampire's Kiss

I watch his head between my legs
As he worships every inch of me
Having learned so much in his long life
Pleasing a woman comes effortlessly

Licking me thoroughly
Taking his time, he has nothing but time
Cool fingers moving inside me
Waiting until I am warm and pleased

Opening my legs wide to receive him
His teeth sharp for an instant
Then no pain as he drinks at my core
My release and my life blood

Stopping when I begin to pale
Moving fast above me, into me
Letting him do the work
Too tired to do anything but enjoy

Hard all over, cool to the touch
Smelling like apricots and me
Bringing me up, up, up
Over and over again

Around the room like a rag doll
Every position more erotic
Coming until I have nothing left
Taking a bit of his blood for energy

Feeding from me again
My breasts this time
Licking to seal the wounds
More of him, more…more

At dawn he crawls into my closet
To the bed I’ve made for us there
We fall into sleep
Waiting for the sun to set again

Eventually he’ll turn me
I have to be ready for the Gift
To be with him through decades
Until he tires of me

Life is long, he says
We will take the years as they come
But I will feed as he does
Never death, only blood and pleasure

Young and selfish and powerful

Late Bloomer

There wasn’t time for dating
A social life managed to pass me by
My teen years were SAT prep
Barely acknowledged among entrance exams

College took my focus then
Becoming a doctor took intensity
Dating was an afterthought again
My early twenties just drifted away

Then I glanced up at twenty-six
Successful but alone and lonely
Unable to fathom how to change it
I’d had no practice, after all

Friends had always thought me unusual
They tried to help with blind dates
Which generally ended in utter disaster
And were best quickly forgotten

The escort service took away the worry
I calmly explained my situation
Asking for a member of their staff
Who could ease the transition for me

I was picked up in a sleek black limo
The Gerber daisies he gave me were stunning
The man who carried them even more so
The perfect gentleman held my hand

Dinner conversation didn’t lag or bore
Then walking along the pier watching the moon
Quiet glasses of wine at my townhouse
His movements toward me non-threatening

He undressed me and undressed for me
Taking his time to put me at ease
I’d never paid attention to my body
He showed me what I’d been missing

Worshipping my skin slowly with his hands
Moved over the same places with his tongue
Giving his every effort to my pleasure
Answering my breathless questions patiently

When he climbed over me, I tensed
For the first time nervous and unsure
He took his time kissing me
Whispering softly, soothingly in my ear

As he nudged my thighs apart
I watched his face closely
I wanted to remember every detail
Tightness, quick pain, and he was still

He smiled, letting me know the worst was over
When he started to move, I finally understood
What the fuss about sex had been about
And he was very good at his job

He threw me over the edge several times
Holding back his own release
Until the very end, when I was exhausted
Only then did he let go, crying out above me

He stayed for hours after, just talking
Leaving as the sun began to color the sky
At last I was truly a woman
And I’m putting the service on speed-dial


What Makes You Tick?

I've lived on my own since I was fifteen.  With that said, I've seen pretty much everything the world has to show (good and bad) and done a very good percentage of it personally.  I'm not saying all of it was smart.  Hell, some of it was just to survive (I won't bore you with the sad details...no negativity here).  

I've tried threesomes and enjoyed them most of the time.  As much as a man loves the thought of two women all over him, the reality is somewhat different.  

Physiologically, men...well...stop producing after a while.  When their fun is at an end, it is a rare few that will continue with only selfless pleasure in mind.  In every W/M/W scenario I've experienced, we women end up awake together - still playing - while the man eventually falls into a sated sleep with a big-ass smile on his face.

Two women with one man is more socially accepted.  Two men with one woman...not so much.  Unless it's the porn industry.  

Men don't often trust other men when it comes to their pleasure.  Women are naturally more trusting and open-minded.  Those are the facts.  In order for two men to join forces to blow a woman's mind, one of two factors has to happen.  

ONE:  the men are bi-sexual - in which case, the woman must be accepting and into the very interesting scenarios that will take place.  You will see them suck each other off and someone is going to get topped.  If you aren't able to be a grownup - meaning, you suddenly screech your homophobia/prudery drivel and kill everyone's good time - then avoid it.  If you're an adventurer when it comes to sex (like me)...play on!

TWO:  the men are both straight and they trust each other (and their own sexuality) enough to get naked and risk their balls touching...because it happens.  A lot.  If you are dealing with men 30+ you can pretty much guarantee this isn't their first rodeo (younger and they're probably trying to post it on YouTube...word to the wise).  They're going to turn you inside out and make you forget your own name.  They take turns, go at you together, one watches while the other plays...all of it so, so good.

Menage with two men (of either orientation) is my personal kink.  I've had it.  Liked it.  Write about it.  Dream about it.  And use it during "me" time.  Add a little light bondage and throw me around a bit and I'm happy for DAYS.

What does it for you?

Closing Time

The doors of the store are locked
Most of the lights are off
Sweeping up and closing registers
Boring but necessary tasks

Clocking out together as usual
Walking through the dark storeroom
Stopping before going through the door
Looking at one another expectantly

Your mouth is on me before I can speak
My hands yanking at your shirt
Kissing urgently, our time is short
Hands yanking my hair from the clip

Fumbling together with the condom
Laying me back on the boxes, exposed
Your cock entering me with desperation
My legs going around your waist

Whispered promises to each other
We know we cannot keep
He waits for me, she waits for you
They are distant in memory for now

I can smell the sex between us
Feeling you pumping into me brutally
Talking dirty to one another
Pushing each other to the limit

I come hard, tightening around you
Telling you I want yours
You approach the brink soon after
Pulling from me and removing the condom

I sit up and take you in my mouth
You can’t contain yourself another moment
Exploding to the back of my throat
As I milk every drop from you

A little longer together, a risk we take
One more time from the back
You playing with my clit this time
Coming together with muffled moans

Cooling down and steadying our breath
Using the restroom to clean up
Kissing hard as we get dressed
Delaying the inevitable separation

Leaving as we should have before
Getting into our separate cars
Driving to our separate homes
To the waiting lives we spend apart

We’re scheduled to work together
Every night this week
To close up the store as a team
And taking selfish pleasure where we can


One Another

We met in Spain after high school
Fellow travelers on an unknown road
Walking and talking together
Like old friends
Learning about one another

Childhood, family, friends
Aspirations and faults
Making love in hostels
Exploring our bodies and desires
Pleasing one another

Backpacking across Europe
Learning food and culture
Discovering wine and breads
Turning strangers into friends
Laughing with one another

The summer ended too soon
Train embarking at dawn
Falling together in desperation
Licking, biting, sucking
Needing one another

The station crowded and hot
Being shoved along
Finding our train, our taxi
Our flight together to New York
Leaving one another

Traveling on to Vermont
He to California
Opposite coasts and lives
Time passes sadly, slowly
Missing one another

The phone calls dwindled
The emails stopped coming
She wept at her loss and his
The pain immense and unending
Forgetting one another

Listening to insipid professors
Drone on as she daydreamed
Hearing someone call her name
A voice familiar across the quad
Running to one another

Clutching one another
Kissing one another
Whispering to one another
Promising one another
To never live one without the other



I watch her across the bar
She came with friends
I notice them not at all

The opposite of me
Not typically my type

She goes to the restroom
I can’t stop myself
I follow her

She stands at the sink
As I enter the room
Our eyes meet fiercely

Entering an empty stall
Groping roughly
Kissing almost angrily

Grinding through clothes
My hand up her skirt
Her hand down my pants

I can’t wait anymore
Sitting on the seat
Pulling her in front of me

My mouth on her pussy
Sweet as I imagined
Her moans echoing

Fingers inside her
Her hands gripping my hair
The orgasm explodes

Excuses to her friends
Alone in my car
Steam on the windows

Returning the favor
I’m so wet for her
She makes me beg

Stripping to nothing
Our breasts together
Grinding in need

Afterward getting dressed
Learning names
Exchanging numbers

A kiss farewell
She goes back to the bar
Glamorous again

The smell of her on me
Her taste on my lips
Never an experience 
Like HER.

Taking the Day Off

Sort of...just from my erotica.  Working on content to pay the bills.  Don't worry though...I'm still thinking lots of naughty thoughts and will check back in late tonight!

In the meantime, enjoy this picture of a man loving up his woman, eyes checking his surroundings, and smoking a cigarette.  Like a boss.


Give Your Man Back His Balls

When I was a little girl in southern Oklahoma, I had a sweet mutt named Rags.  That dog followed me everywhere.  My uncle had other dogs that were bigger (and more elitist) than Rags. They tormented him endlessly.  I was afraid he'd be hurt.  Harvey said, "Girl, leave that dog be.  He knows his nature.  He's cowering...you can't do that in the animal world.  He has to fight for his place."  

Three days later, two of the biggest dogs piled on him and Rags came up snarling, moving faster than I'd ever seen a dog move.  When all was said and done, the other two limped away bleeding.  Rags never cowered again.

Women think their men are like "Sweet and Gentle Rags".  They think they have all the control, leading them around by their dicks for a bit of pussy - that may or may not even be all that good.  You carry your man's balls around in your purse and think you're ten different kinds of clever.  

You sweet, naive little thing.

Men today fight their natures.  Every man possesses the raw instinct to hunt and dominate their prey.  If you have one of those men who just sits there while you bitch and moan, does whatever you tell him, dresses in the clothes you buy, cuts ties with friends because of your over-sensitive ass...you're eventually going to get the "Bad Ass Motherfucker Rags".  The day he says to himself, "Her pussy is not worth this shit."

Why do we strip men of the very things that draw us to them?  Nothing turns me on more than watching guys sweat - we can compare sweat and get all clean together.  You mad?  You want to yell, stomp around, and slam your hand on the counter?  Go right ahead.  I scream, too.  Rough sex has no better place than after a screaming match.  

He wants his friends over?  I'll bring you snacks and watch the game upstairs...I know you'll be all ramped up after hours of nothing but guy shit.  I think there's a competition after the weekly poker game to see which of the four guys nails their wife first.  There could even be a betting pool...I'm not sure.

I've dated/fucked both men and women.  I adore both, I truly do.  I always go back to men because I like that inner caveman every man has - they aren't ANY good without their balls so stop your shit.  

Pull my hair.  Slap my ass.  Make it hurt just a little bit - then maybe a little bit more.  

It's good for both of us to know who you really are, you B.A.M.F., you.

Picking the Book to Market...

I created cover art placeholders for my completed work - here and on Facebook.  This is my dilemma:  I have 14 books (novels and novella compilations) that are done and fully edited.  I also have about 20 short stories and novellas that are done but don't really "fit" anywhere, if you know what I mean.  Random thoughts that began a story but totally stand alone.  I'm considering taking those one-offs and submitting them to Indie publishers (online) just to get some exposure - you know, if they don't tell me I suck.  

I need to generate income, I am trying to make that happen through content writing to support my writing habit.  It takes at least an hour or two for each query to an agent/publisher since they all have different requirements.  

My question - I need to submit my strongest book and I'm just not fucking sure which one to go with.  An impact book an agent is going to fucking SELL.  

I love "In the Service of Women" but the last agent had it for two years and nothing happened.    

Commercially, I think "The Barter System" has a little something for everyone.  I need to pick one and stick with it...get behind it and push, push, push.  

I have this feeling...that something is coming that is going to change things.  Maybe if that happens, I'll be able to really focus on getting ALL of the stories in my head on paper.  

Oh, and why the photo with two women?  Two reasons...

1) They're curvy...true curvy in a way that is LOST today.  Thick, beautiful women (like I imagine Robin Schone's and Shelly Laurenston's female characters to be) are a total turn-on.

2) "In the Service of Women" is 85% fem/fem sex.  The blond reminds me of the main character, Sarah (except she's a redhead).  The darker, smaller woman reminds me of Sarah's jazz singer lady-client, Tricia.  

Thinking happy thoughts...

Not Enough Time...

Where the hell does the day go?  I have at least 15 fresh story ideas in my head - spent all day yesterday setting up new sites and formulating all my business docs for my freelance content company.  I want to write, I need to pay bills.  The balance required sucks.  SUCKS!

I've found several Indie publishers that won't flinch in horror over some of my more risque stuff...I'll have to find time this week to dive back into the query pool...time consuming, frustrating, and kind of makes you want to just have a drink and say "fuck it".  

Alas, already on the computer (and my second big-ass cup of coffee) since 4:30am and lots to do before my day is over.  Ooohhh, did I forget to mention my teenagers are home for Spring Break?  I'm working for 8 hours before they wake up...I want to smack them and take their pillows away.  Mainly, you know, because I'm jealous.

Happy Hump Day, darlings!


Why You MUST Read Shelly Laurenston

My family always knows when I'm reading a Shelly Laurenston story.  Every few minutes (or for a long period at one time) I bust out laughing hysterically.  Her shifters are just funny, damn it.  For instance, I'm re-reading my copy of "The Mane Attraction" for the third time and still laughing like a fool.  

I don't own a lot of her books because my conservative local library didn't realize she used words like "cock" and "pussy" in her work and ordered them all in.  Hell, yeah!  I was first on the list and read five in one weekend.  

Great characters (strong as hell), interwoven plots that make sense, steamy sex scenes, and lines I wish to God I'd thought of first...

Don't believe me?  Here are some samples:

"Did you just say my ass was talking to you?" - Sissy
"Again.  It's talking to me again." - Mitch
"And what does my ass say to you exactly?" - Sissy
"I don't know.  It's speaking in tongues." - Mitch

"I'm not having sex with you 'cause you almost died." - Sissy
"Fine.  Hand job?" - Mitch
"No." - Sissy
"Blow job?" - Mitch
"At least let me bury my face between your breasts." - Mitch
"Don't make me hurt you." - Sissy
"If I do, will I get to call you mistress?" - Mitch

Almost every paragraph makes me laugh, the dialogue so clever I can barely contain my envy.  You have to check her out.  Especially if you're in need of a pick-me-up!


VERY Short Romantic Story: Clean

This story doesn't have a lot of kinky sex (though I might take Sierra's story a little further later on) but I loved the strength involved in my female lead.  For those of you who have suffered drug/alcohol/sex addiction in the past...I applaud you.  If you're still living with addiction, please remember: it is never too late to get...


Sierra stumbled toward her apartment.  Another late night of too much partying.  When her next door neighbor swept into the hall, she couldn’t avoid a collision.  Strong hands came up to grip her arms, to steady her.  “You alright?” his asked abruptly. 

She nodded, unusually embarrassed.  She reeked of booze, smoke, and sweat.  Her reflection in his elegant glasses showed a woman who looked cheap and used up.  Dirty.  “I’m sorry, Max.”  He frowned and set her carefully away from him.

“No harm done.”  Locking his door, he nodded at her and said curtly, “Have a good day, Sierra.”  Then he was gone, a man in finely tailored business wear, a suit jacket over one arm.  Gorgeous.  She’d never heard him cuss, seen him less than perfectly turned out, or heard a single complaint about him from the other residents. 

No one could say the same about her.

She made it inside her apartment and stared at her reflection in the foyer mirror.  She looked like shit.  In a less-respectable neighborhood, she’d be mistaken for a prostitute.  Had she really dropped almost a grand over the last eight hours on a good time for her friends?  Yes, she had.  Her posse had no shame using her money. 

Her parents hadn’t raised her like this.  They were valued members of the community back in Tyler, Texas.  Her dad started on the rigs forty years ago and now ran one of the biggest drilling companies in North America.  Her mother gave as many hours to her charity work as a full-time job.  She considered it her duty.  They laughed and loved like no two people she’d ever known.

She had arrived in New York to attend college on her father’s dime.  She’d done well in her business classes until her first trust fund deposited when she was twenty-one.  She’d partied until she was thrown out of school.  She had slept all day and partied all night ever since. 

When was the last time she thought of someone other than herself?  How had it gotten so bad that she couldn’t look a nice male in the eye without shame?  If her parents showed up this minute, what would they think?

She was twenty-six.  She’d wasted years.  It had been so easy.  It wasn’t going to be so easy to stop.

Six months later…
No voicemails, no email, no texts.  Her phone battery lasted forever now that she wasn’t sending and receiving hundreds of inane messages daily.  She hadn’t talked to any of her old friends in months.  What fun was somebody who didn’t drink anything stronger than iced tea and called it a night when drugs appeared?  The first time she hadn’t picked up the tab had been the final nail in the coffin of her prior life. 

Her only attraction had been free-flowing cash and a laughing dismissal of all behavior, no matter how destructive.  She wasn’t that person anymore.  She no longer knew who she was…but she knew who she wasn’t.

Picking up her messenger bag, she headed out.  She was dressed in jeans, sweater, and boots to combat the chill fall weather.  Her hair was in a messy bun, a look the Sierra of six months ago would never have gone out in.  She wore no makeup.  Her only jewelry was the locket her mother had given her when she’d turned sixteen. 

It had taken her hours to find it, she hadn’t worn the necklace in years.  That day, she’d been shaking from the lack of booze and pills in her system.  She didn’t shake anymore.  AA meetings three nights a week had helped. 

Heading for the elevator, she passed Max in the hall and kept her eyes down, still unwilling to meet his eyes.  She had to get to class anyway.  Three credits and she’d have her business degree.  Screwing up her senior year had been the first of many stupid decisions.

Class, coffee, the library, picking up takeout, and checking her mail.  The day was tiring but productive.  Home would soothe her.  The new cleaning service would have been in earlier.  A nice soak before she put the finishing touches on her business ethics paper.

Moving everything to one hand, she worked to get her keys out of her bag.  Mail hit the floor, she almost dropped her dinner.  A large hand caught it, another scooped up the envelopes.  Lifting her gaze, she stared into dark green eyes.  “Max.  Hi.  Thanks.”  She opened her door and turned to take her things. 

“You look great, Sierra.”

Swallowing hard, she whispered, “Thank you.”  Her bag went on the foyer table.  She flipped a switch and soft lighting flared through the darkened rooms.  He handed her the mail but not the Chinese takeout.

“Do you eat out every night?”

“I don’t…I don’t have time to cook.”  Her words were self-conscious.  “Easier to get takeout.”

He blinked.  She focused on the wall behind him.  “Why won’t you look at me, Sierra?”  Her hazel eyes flickered but didn’t meet his. 

“Do you need to ask?” she asked him sharply.  “I know what you must think of me.”

He moved into her foyer, set the food down, closed the door.  He moved close, taller by several inches despite her boots.  “You know what I’m thinking when I look at you?”  He reached out and lifted her bag away, leaning it against the table on the floor.  She nodded stiffly.  “Hmm.  So you know I admire you?”  Sierra’s eyes shot to his in confusion, his finger stroked her jaw.  “That I watched the pain you went through to take back your life?”  Max leaned in, brushing his lips lightly over hers.  “How I think about kissing you?  That I imagine holding you naked?  Burying my cock deep inside you, making you mine?”  Both palms cupped her face.  “Even when you were lost, I saw you, Sierra.  I’m glad you finally did.”

“You…want me?”

“All of you.  Yes.  Since you moved in.  More since I watched you fight your demons alone.”  He brushed kisses over her eyes, nose, mouth and whispered, “You’re strong and smart.  Both attributes I find incredibly sexy.”

Her lips kicked up on one side.  “I don’t drink anymore but I still have attitude, like to dance, and wear risqué clothes when I need to feel better.”

“Excellent.  I work too much, tend to be bossy, and plan to fuck you until you scream my name.”  One brow lifted in arrogant male confidence as he moved his lips along her jaw to her neck. 

A soft moan and she whispered, “I’m not usually a screamer.  You’d best get started.”