Check out that sexy, sexy bellybutton charm. How 90s!
Chapter 1 begins with Merry lounging by the pool at Maeve Reed’s mansion. In order to appease the paparazzi, Merry and Co began organizing paparazzi-events where they appear and do “sidhe stuff” for the public for them to take photographs/videos/whatever. Because they’re huge stars, remember? They’re all lounging by the pool wearing very little.
Actually, after like eight paragraphs of LKH describing Doyle’s skin tone and how gorgeous true black he is, we then get several paragraphs going over everything that happened in the previous two books. I don’t know why authors do this – by the third book in a series, the audience knows what happened. People don’t typically pick up a book in the middle of a series without at least having an understanding of what happened previously.
Ugh, and it goes on for pages. Pages and pages of all the crap I already had to read through and dissect. I don’t care about any of this. And the pages of this ends with a lengthy description of Merry’s beauty. We already know what Merry looks like. Moving on.
So Doyle looks up from his spot near the pool’s edge and announces that he hears the helicopter approaching, but Rhys is not out to join them yet. So Merry is about to call for him, but Rhys then appears in the doorway. Merry is admiring his sculpted beauty and she then realizes he’s not wearing anything.
“Rhys! What are you doing?”
He grinned at me. “Bathing suits this small are like lies. It’s a way for humans to be nude without being naked. I’d rather just be naked.”
He grinned at me. “Bathing suits this small are like lies. It’s a way for humans to be nude without being naked. I’d rather just be naked.”
Uh what? No, Rhys, bathing suits are fucking awesome. I’d rather wear one than be naked. I’m probably alone in this, but I’d live in a bathing suit if I could. If I didn’t live in freaking Wisconsin where it’s hellishly cold and horrible 8 months of the year. Or if I didn’t live next to an uber polluted lake that most often smells like dead fish mixed with dog crap. Delicious.
“They won’t be able to print the pictures if one of us is nude,” Doyle said.
“They’ll print my ass, just not my front.”
I looked up at him, suddenly suspicious. “And just why won’t they be able to see the front of your body?”
He laughed, head back, mouth wide, a sound so joyous it seemed to make the day brighter. “I’ll be hiding myself against your gorgeous body.”
“No,” Doyle said.
“And are you going to do anything picture-worthy?” Rhys asked, hands on his hips. He was totally comfortable nude. His body language never changed, no matter what he was, or wasn’t, wearing. It had taken two days worth of arguing to get Doyle into the thong bikini bottom he had on. He’d never participated in the court’s casual nudity.
“They’ll print my ass, just not my front.”
I looked up at him, suddenly suspicious. “And just why won’t they be able to see the front of your body?”
He laughed, head back, mouth wide, a sound so joyous it seemed to make the day brighter. “I’ll be hiding myself against your gorgeous body.”
“No,” Doyle said.
“And are you going to do anything picture-worthy?” Rhys asked, hands on his hips. He was totally comfortable nude. His body language never changed, no matter what he was, or wasn’t, wearing. It had taken two days worth of arguing to get Doyle into the thong bikini bottom he had on. He’d never participated in the court’s casual nudity.
So why not get someone else to do it? I’m sure Galen or Nicca would be totally fine with it. Frost would be crying into his messy tinsel hair, so he’s out, but why make Doyle do it if he needs to be argued into it?
Doyle tells them that what he’s wearing is good enough for pictures, and Rhys laughs at this. Rhys thinks they need to start doing something a little more extreme, otherwise the paparazzi are just going to try to keep taking pictures through the cracks in their blinds. They eventually all agree that Rhys is right, and they need to give the media a good show.
Rhys kneels down by Merry’s chair, and Merry asks him if he has a plan in place, or if they’re just going to wing it.
“I thought we’d make out.”
“And what am I supposed to be doing?” Doyle asked. He sounded disgusted with the entire situation. He loved being my lover, loved the possibility of being king; he hated the publicity and everything that went with it.
“You can take one end, I’ll take the other.”
“And what am I supposed to be doing?” Doyle asked. He sounded disgusted with the entire situation. He loved being my lover, loved the possibility of being king; he hated the publicity and everything that went with it.
“You can take one end, I’ll take the other.”
Hahaha what?!
Doyle flashed a smile, white and sudden as lightening in the darkness of his face. He moved with that liquid grace and speed that I could never match, and was suddenly kneeling beside my shoulders. “If I must, then I would have the sweet taste of your mouth.”
Rhys darted a quick lick across my bare stomach that made me writhe and giggle. He raised his face enough to say, “There are other tastes just as sweet.”
Rhys darted a quick lick across my bare stomach that made me writhe and giggle. He raised his face enough to say, “There are other tastes just as sweet.”
Ughhhhh.
Rhys ran a finger along the edge of my bikini bottom. “Such a tiny piece of cloth. They’ll never see it if we’re careful.”
I frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
I frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
Come on, Merry, you are notthis dense.
He dropped lower on the lounge chair so that his face was above that tiny piece of cloth, his hands sliding under my slightly raised thighs until those hands came up over my hips and hid the bright red cloth of the bikini bottom. He lowered his face just over my groin, and his hair spread across my thighs like a curtain.
I didn’t have time to protest, or even decide if I was going to. The helicopter cleared the trees, and that was how they found us. Rhys with his face buried in my groin, his legs bent at the knees, feet kicking slightly over his bare ass, like a child with a piece of good candy.
I didn’t have time to protest, or even decide if I was going to. The helicopter cleared the trees, and that was how they found us. Rhys with his face buried in my groin, his legs bent at the knees, feet kicking slightly over his bare ass, like a child with a piece of good candy.
So, forced possibly non-consensual oral sex? COOL.
I also really love the image of Rhys laying his face into her crotch and kicking his feet in the air behind him. And again LKH brings in some child-like image to compare to her sex scene. It’s so disturbing and disgusting. No, do not compare your gross fairy beef sandwich to a kid eating candy. You don’t do that.
Doyle presses his face into Merry’s neck to hide his laughter. This makes Merry start laughing, a full body-shaking laugh, which means with every laugh she’s ramming her crotch into Rhys’s face.
Rhys licked across the front of my groin, and even through the cloth it slowed the laughter, brought a catch to my breath. He rolled his eye up the line of my body, and the look was enough; he didn’t want me laughing. He set his teeth into the cloth and grazed me delicately with his teeth. The sensation made me shudder, spine bowing enough to spill my head backward and open my mouth in a throaty gasp.
So Rhys chomps down on her meaty bush to make her stop laughing? Ugh. Doyle puts a stop to this, telling them he thinks that they have given enough of a show for today. Which I’m choosing to take as he’s just totally fucking jealous that Rhys is able to do this to Merry and he doesn’t want Merry to enjoy anything the other men do to her. Doyle hands Rhys and Merry some towels. They both wrap themselves up, and then Rhys scoops Merry up in his arms. She protests, but he tells her that he wants to carry her. So she lets him because she realizes it’ll cost her nothing to let him do what he wants in this instance.
What, Merry choose not to argue about something? Nooo, never.
They enter the house and Merry notices that Rhys had left his gun on a chair inside. She then sees Frost standing hidden in the drapes, watching over the paparazzi through the windows, fully armed. The chapter ends with Merry realizing that any day where no one tries to kill her, and she gets to pose for some racy photos with her lovers, is a good day.
Trailer Park of Emotion 