****** needed to clear his head if he were going to find some kind of a way of wrapping his tired brain around all the crazy stuff thrown at him non-stop since he first laid eyes, and hands, on the green-skinned belle back on that dirt road. Seemed like a thousand years had passed. When it was really only what, a month, maybe two. **** temporal distortion. It really was messing with his mind. He couldn't seem to get enough of other women to make a difference. All he saw in his dreams, in his private moments, in the back of his mind when each fresh disaster struck was Medusa's golden green eyes. Well, not just her eyes; her perfect heart-shaped *** that time she walked naked with him beside the Amazon. He thought of all the times she’d straddled him in the moonlight, the candlelight, the daylight. He’d watched her ******* bounce with his every ****** and the way her neck would arch back like a wild winged thing just before she finished. He grabbed the white kerchief off his neck and wiped his sweaty face. Thinking about the Gorgon was making him a crazy man. “How she’d hiss and laugh if she knew what she's done to me” he thought grimly. ❤