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(Includes all 5 stories listed below)
Sebastian, The Beginning: MF Historical Paranormal Erotica
My Servant, My Lover
MF/MM Historical Paranormal Erotica
Wealthy Ménage
MF/MM/MFM/Ménage Historical Paranormal Erotica
Prohibition Inhibitions: MF/MM/MMF/MFM/BDSM Historical Paranormal Erotica
The Tryst - Chronicle Finale
MM Paranormal Erotic Romance
Pity the Living, Not the Dead
MM Paranormal First Time Dark Romance
Huggable Daddy by Aster Rae (MM)
Copyright © 2023 by Aster Rae and Red Hot Romance, Inc.
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including, but not limited to, photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. [email protected]
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, locales, and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, and events are purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Cory
If it hasn’t happened by now, it never will.
A sad expression forms on my face as my eyes rake across the playroom. I’m at the Little Bunny Club in Manhattan for a kink mixer.
Pups chase their tails as doting Masters lavish them with praise. Littles of every complexion and size play with toys, building magical kingdoms that stretch toward the sky.
Me? I’m sitting in the corner, my back pressed against the wall. Too scared to play. Too shy to do anything but mope here like the twenty-three-year-old loser I am.
It was a mistake to come here tonight.
My friend Arlo, who’s also a Little, walks to my side. "Is everything all right, Cory?"
I rest my chin on my fist. "I’m trying to get into my headspace."
Arlo hands me his alien stuffy, Mr. Green. "Cuddling with my favorite stuffies always helps me find my inner Little. Maybe you need to give Mr. Green a hug."
I pick up Arlo’s alien stuffy, then blink back tears. I have plenty of stuffies of my own to play with—finding a plush, friendly one isn’t the issue.
No, the problem is me.
Ever since my last Daddy and I broke up, I’ve been unable to access that special part of me that lets me be Little. I’ve tried—Lord knows I’ve poured my all into my solitary play sessions, spreading blocks across my studio apartment’s floor, or creating princess bead-paintings.
