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tiptoe39heee hee hee i'm sooo bad
Harlequin
"Lord Mohinder of the House of Suresh shook out his jet-black curls and stepped down from his horse, his skirts (no, I mean pants, pants!) pants damp with sweat. He had ridden all the way across the lush green fields that formed the lavish Suresh estate, beginning in the earliest pulse of morning, awakening even before his chambermaid (that's not right, boys don't have chambermaids, it must be a butler, yeah!) his butler had risen to prepare his breakfast. For Mohinder's sleep had been troubled and his bed, that place of serene repose, no more comfortable than a bed of thorns.
"For last night he had met Matt, Duke of Parkman. (That sounds silly!)
"Their eyes had met from across the opulent ballroom and there had been instant fire running down Mohinder's spine. Surely a more handsome man had never been put on this earth. And when they'd danced, Mohinder's feet had glided across the floor like he was floating on a cloud. Those piercing, maddening eyes had whispered deep secrets into his. (Eyes don't whisper. Who wrote this thing!) And late, late in the deep bosom of night, he had run fluttering kisses over Mohinder's neck and lips and breast (Ewwww, noooo! That's just WRONG!) neck and lips and (ummmm never mind can't think of anything) neck and lips, awakening in the young heiress (what's an heiress? can mohinder be an heiress?) a desire she (oops) he never knew he could feel."
Matt walked away from the bedroom door, blushing beet red. "Honey," he said, walking into the other room, "I think Molly may not be as well-adjusted as we originally thought."
"Oh, would you quit fretting about that romance novel she bought?" Mohinder snapped, rolling his eyes. "It's normal for her to have an interest in such things at this age."
"Mohinder," Matt said. "When was the last time a normal kid actually fantasized about her parents getting it on?"
Harlequin
"Lord Mohinder of the House of Suresh shook out his jet-black curls and stepped down from his horse, his skirts (no, I mean pants, pants!) pants damp with sweat. He had ridden all the way across the lush green fields that formed the lavish Suresh estate, beginning in the earliest pulse of morning, awakening even before his chambermaid (that's not right, boys don't have chambermaids, it must be a butler, yeah!) his butler had risen to prepare his breakfast. For Mohinder's sleep had been troubled and his bed, that place of serene repose, no more comfortable than a bed of thorns.
"For last night he had met Matt, Duke of Parkman. (That sounds silly!)
"Their eyes had met from across the opulent ballroom and there had been instant fire running down Mohinder's spine. Surely a more handsome man had never been put on this earth. And when they'd danced, Mohinder's feet had glided across the floor like he was floating on a cloud. Those piercing, maddening eyes had whispered deep secrets into his. (Eyes don't whisper. Who wrote this thing!) And late, late in the deep bosom of night, he had run fluttering kisses over Mohinder's neck and lips and breast (Ewwww, noooo! That's just WRONG!) neck and lips and (ummmm never mind can't think of anything) neck and lips, awakening in the young heiress (what's an heiress? can mohinder be an heiress?) a desire she (oops) he never knew he could feel."
Matt walked away from the bedroom door, blushing beet red. "Honey," he said, walking into the other room, "I think Molly may not be as well-adjusted as we originally thought."
"Oh, would you quit fretting about that romance novel she bought?" Mohinder snapped, rolling his eyes. "It's normal for her to have an interest in such things at this age."
"Mohinder," Matt said. "When was the last time a normal kid actually fantasized about her parents getting it on?"