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... tionally unstable.

Climaxa—the literal Goddess of Orgasms—was behind him, kneading his shoulders with fingers made of starbursts and sin. Her touch felt like every dirty dream he'd ever had got a PhD in seduction.

"Relax, Henry," she purred. "The universe is slippery when tense."

Henry tried to focus. But it was hard. Very hard. And so was he.

"I just wanted a nap," he mumbled, trying not to stare at Climaxa's gravity-defying chest, which bounced like twin galaxie ...

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