Honey Flava

“You just have to make me say it, don’t you?” she accused, and tried not to smile when he grinned unrepentantly. “You were right about my being afraid of rejection. But I realize now that I have to try to find my biological family.”

“And what about moving?”

Trisha groaned. “One step at a time, Brett.”

“Okay. Wanna celebrate this momentous occasion?”

She cocked her head. “What’d you have in mind?”

He cupped a breast. “I was thinking…” His fingers pinched her nipple.

“Brett!”

He ignored her halfhearted protest and continued, “…that I could take you to my parents’ party later.”

“The parade and the party? What gives?”

He shrugged. “I decided that I could appreciate my culture without getting lost in it.”

“Really? Good f-for you…” Trisha barely got it out. His hand was under her skirt again, tracing circles on her inner thigh.

Brett reluctantly removed his hand. He’d actually felt her heat and hadn’t even touched the hot spot yet. “Let’s hope this will make you as happy as my sudden realization has.” He gave her a small cardboard box.

Surprised, and more than a little horny, Trisha pulled off the lid. “It’s beautiful.” It was a small, gold globe. “Oh, Brett, you’re giving me the world,” she choked out as realization dawned.

“Let’s see it together.”

Trisha was stunned. “But what about your parents? What will they—?”

“Don’t worry about them. I’ve never been traditional, and they know it.”

She launched herself at him.

He caught her, laughing when she buried her face in his neck. “Should I take that as a yes?” He nuzzled the top of her head when she nodded. “Are you wearing panties?”

Rendered mute by happiness, and so wet that she was practically dripping, Trisha shook her head no.

“No?” His hand slid beneath her leotard. “God, baby,” he growled as his fingers slid across her slick wetness. “Is this all for me?”

She helplessly burrowed closer, licking his neck. “Wo yuan yi cheng gui da diao,” she purred.

Brett lifted a brow at the dirty talk. “Ah…so size really does matter, huh?” He pushed a finger into her opening and swirled it around. “And we have another yes,” he teased when she cried out.

Prince of Roses

S. J. FROST

HIDEKI GLARED DOWN AT the polished dark-wood bar and took a sip of his water, hoping it would help cool his annoyance. As Club Platinum’s number one host, he had yet to engage any of the female clientele since one of his regulars had contacted him earlier saying she would be in and not to get occupied with anyone else. Seeing that it was now one o’clock, and she normally arrived by midnight, it looked like he had wasted his time waiting for her, which could have been spent earning the club money and boosting his commission. This was the exact reason he laughed whenever anyone said how lucky he was to be such a popular host. He knew what it was like to be at the bottom of the host-club food chain, scrubbing the toilets, catering to the top hosts, pounding the streets in all weather trying to coerce women to come into the club. H

ard work, brains, and tenacity had gotten him where he was, not luck.

A pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders and a forlorn sigh wisped past his ear.

“Let another one get away, eh, Eiji-kun?” Hideki said.

The younger host laid his head against the back of Hideki’s. “I tried to use your trick of pouring her champagne while whispering sweet things in her ear, but I overpoured and some dribbled on her leg. She got irritated and left.”

“As she should. She shouldn’t have to waste her time and money on so clumsy a host.”