Rich Euro Stud

By Sophie Sin

In Rich Euro Stud a young woman meets a hot European stud and in a moment of weakness invites him home only to find that the man is more than just handsome and has some tricks up his sleeve that will fulfill her immediate uncontrollable desire for him and so much more.

This and other similar stories available in 'Sexy Erotica Vol. 4'.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lunatic Ink Publishing
• Release date: Jun 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311618320

Sophie Sin

Sophie Sin writes heterosexual erotica. She also occasionally writes gay erotic fiction under the pen name Dick Powers.

Book preview

Rich Euro Stud

The guy you meet when you aren't looking

Sophie Sin

LunaticInkPublishing.com

Contents

Front Page

Contents

Copyright

Introduction

1. Meeting Mr. Euro Hunk

2. How Morning Afters Should Be

Bonus Book

Book Note

Find More Books

Copyright 2016 Lunatic Ink Publishing

by Sophie Sin

All rights reserved. This book or any portion of may not to reprinted or reproduced without the written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Keep up with Sophie Sin's latest work at his profile here: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/SophiaSin

Sophie Sin also writes male-male erotica under the pen name Dick Powers. You can find a list of her books here: www.smashwords.com/profile/view/DickHard

Find the latest information on what books are coming out, competitions and more at LuanticInkPublishing.com

INTRODUCTION

I think Sophie was probably thinking on the wonders and agonies of after break up sex and where things can lead if the right rebound is found. This is a hot little piece where a woman goes from 'in agony' to 'in ecstasy' to what matters much more.

Thank you for reading Sophie Sin's work.

Much appreciation,

Kenneth Guthrie

Editor & Publisher

Lunatic Ink Publishing

1

MEETING MR. EURO HUNK

Without the tears...

The music is smooth and fills the background with a subtle revolving drum base that seems to stimulate my figurative emotional heart to something better than a dull, pained throb and seems eager to ring a few beats out of the broken love strings of the guitar that I once held for a man named Samuel who met me in west Chicago one night in a seedy bar no better than the one that I am in right now.

My drink is cool in my hand. When the bartender saw me, he popped out a cosmopolitan quicker than the gunman pulling his six shooter in one of those Wild West movies. I have not taken a single sip however. The slight scent of crisp chilled fruit juice and strong rich alcohol is enough to make me avoid the sickly taste of the fluid within the sharp crystal cocktail glass in my hand. The drink