Run the Line
A Carly Shannon story
By Jenny Iroh
Sixteen days and eight hours ago I was in bed with the two most beautiful rednecks you’ve ever seen in your life.
Braden and Kyle. Holy goddess. I’m not sure where you’re from, but in the shit-ass burg they call Florida, the size of a man’s belt buckle appears directly proportionate to the size of his dick.
As an Unseelie princess, I’m pretty much the authority on the size of dicks.
In fact, 16 years ago, I was fucking my way through the entire sidhe, and all the domains beholden to our sidhe.
No, you fucking asscake, it’s not sid-heee, it she. She.
Sidhe is pronounced she.
Because, Gaelic.









