Bound to Collide: Confessions of a Sex Fiend

By Rayven Godchild

~ ~ ~ Chancellor Baltimore crosses paths with the one woman he couldn't bend to his will: Neela. After time apart and a heated situation between them, it is the truth that will set them free. ~ ~ ~ 

This episode is all about confrontation: 
Confronting anger 
Confronting desire 
And confronting the need binding Chancellor and Neela on a collision course that was inevitable. 

Let’s enjoy this tale of a sex fiend as Chancellor continues to break the rule that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. 

Shhhhh! Don’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rayven Godchild
• Release date: Dec 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519932396

Book preview

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Confessions of a Sex Fiend: Bound to Collide

Rayven Godchild

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Published by Rayven Godchild

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Copyright 2014 Rayven Godchild

Cover design by Melody Simmons of eBookindiecovers

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One ~ WTF

Chapter Two ~ No Place Like the Barn~ Neela

Chapter Three ~ When All Else Fails, Suck It

Chapter Four ~ Collisions Head On ~Neela

Rum and Coke

About Rayven Godchild

Acknowledgements

Rayven’s Works

Chapter One

WTF

I...

I don’t have a confession this time.

I can’t.

If I say the words (like I miss you or I heart you...or the dreaded I-l-o-v-e-y-o-u), I breathe life into them, make them mean something. I make them a possibility.

I’m not sure I’m ready to do that.

Even with my kryptonite standing in front of me.

Mallory quirked a brow at me, sweet to hint she would stay if I wanted her to, but I shook my head. She crept passed Neela, breakfast burrito in hand. Her heels click-clacked down the steps toward her Mercedes-Benz. Her car purred away from the circular curve, passing the familiar Jaguar.

Neela’s Jag.

The last time Neela stood at my door - not this exact