I am known by many names. My beloved mother called me Flopsy Lapin. Lady Grace Satin jokes that I am the wickedest rabbit in all of the world. Her father, Lord Satan, dares to label me a mobster street rabbit. You, my friend, may call me the Godrabbit.
Lady Grace is the only female I lust after. My bloodstained hands are unworthy of holding her, so when a high-class hooker with Lady Grace's face, voice, scent, and everything else, wanders into my casino, I make her an offer she can't refuse. This leads to a night I will never forget.
Note: The Godrabbit is a prequel to Protect And Serve: Badge Bunny, and is not actually part of the Protect and Serve series. We're just -- ahh -- keeping it in the family, so to speak.
"The Godrabbit" is also available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and iTunes!
Praise for The Godrabbit
"I don't know how Ms. Sax does it but she has written some awesome books that define the word entertainment. The Godrabbit rocks!"
-- Xeranthemum, Whipped Cream Reviews
"Flopsy�s one sexy jackrabbit and two pages into the story, he makes it plain what the sentence �F**k like a bunny� really means. He�s master in the sack, out of it, on his desk, under it�and he�s pretty good with a gun, too."
-- 5 Lips from Icy Snow, Two Lips Reviews
"The story is well-written and the character dialogues have depth and personality. The characters come to life and the pacing was right on. The author also brings you into the environment with a very realistic setting. Cynthia Sax
delivers her original style in this story. It deserves 5 Stars!"
-- 5 Stars from DebA, Night Owl Reviews
This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Cynthia Sax
01 Grace's Blog
Males are perverse creatures. Over the past two years, I've sent Flopsy Lapin an embarrassing array of kiss-me signals, and I've been completely ignored. When I finally lose my mind and visit his casino, decked out in an outfit that would make a stripper blush, he's so eager to fuck me, he's willing to pay through his twitching nose for the privilege.
On a regular day, Lady Grace Satin wouldn't use a crude word like fuck, but I'm not feeling like myself tonight. I have a bad case of the sluts, which is why Flopsy's henchman assumes I'm a hooker. The battle-ax of a nurse examining me for God knows what kind of diseases knows better. For some bizarre reason, she keeps that knowledge to herself.
So I stand on the threshold to Flopsy's study, ironically the room where we first met, and wonder what in the blue blazes I'm doing. I'm not a hooker. I'm a virgin, and I don't know how to please a sophisticated mobster like Flopsy.
The flutter of fear that makes me want to upchuck flattens when I spot my big, bad bunny shifter. Flopsy is slumped in a brown leather armchair, staring into the unlit fireplace. What he sees there, I have no idea, but the normally cocky, confident Godrabbit appears weary and defeated. Optimism inflates my flat chest because even my inept sexual fumblings can't make him feel any worse than he looks right now.
"Come here." His voice is deep and rich like the cognac he has cradled in one hand. I swing my hips as I walk, imitating the movements of the scantily clad cocktail waitresses he employs. They're not hookers, but as I don't know any hookers, they'll have to do for role models.
"Kneel." Flopsy spreads his legs. He's impeccably dressed, as usual, in a dark three-piece suit. That phrase "crime doesn't pay" is a load of hooey. It does pay -- very, very well. I kneel between his legs and look up at him, awaiting further instructions. If he coaches me all the way, I may have a chance at pulling this off.
His brown eyes glint, and his nose twitches as he examines me. I freeze, worry twisting my insides. Does he recognize me? That would so bite the big carrot. He'd give me that tired you're-too-good-for-me speech, pat me on my head like I'm five years old, and send me home in one of his big, black limousines. I would then expire of sexual frustration, and my gravestone would read, "Here lies a rabbit who didn't get any."
"Black hair, blue eyes, pale skin." Flopsy reaches out as though to touch my face, only to, at the last second, drop his hand. "Mon Dieu, you look like her." I perk up. I look like someone else. They say that everyone has a twin somewhere in the world but as an only child, I've never seen any bunny shifter remotely resembling me. "Tonight, your name is Grace, understand?"
Wait a cottontail minute! Grace is my name. He hires a hooker who looks like me and then calls her by my name? Hope blossoms in my alcohol-filled stomach. Flopsy wants me -- me, small-breasted, gangly me.
Miracles do happen.
"Understand?" Impatience edges the word. Flopsy expects everyone to jump to do his bidding. It's a mob boss thing. Normally I'd give him one of my trademark icy glares and tell him I'll do what I please, but tonight, I'm his hooker, and I doubt hookers are that lippy.
"I understand, sir." I embrace my role as his temporary sex slave.
"Good." Flopsy nods, appearing satisfied. "Now, suck my cock like this is your first time." He leans back in his chair, settling in for the experience.
"Yes, sir." This should be easy to do because this is my first time. Having watched movies, I know the basics. My fingers tremble as I unzip his dress pants. His large, hard cock springs loose, and I bite my bottom lip. Don't males wear underwear? This male, I guess, doesn't. I look up at Flopsy. Although his eyes appear closed, I know he's watching me. He's a bit of a control freak.
I run my fingers along his shaft. He's soft yet firm, and his cockhead is tinged purple. That doesn't look healthy but if Flopsy's not worried, I guess I shouldn't be. He's also leaking -- a bead of moisture forming on the slit. I don't usually put unknown substances into my mouth -- that is asking for a quick trip to the emergency room -- but my research says sucking cock involves lips. I bend down and lick his tip.
He tastes salty with a hint of carrots. I like carrots, and I like salt. I lick him some more, exploring the ridge under his cockhead, running my tongue up and down his thick shaft. It's covered with veins. A female would inject bunnytox to rid herself of those veins, but Flopsy is a male's male. He has a here-I-am, if-you-don't-like-it, you-can-go-to-hell stance on things.
I like that about him.