“Ten minutes to purchase her. One hour to get her lips wrapped around my cock. Three days to taste her juices. Four days to pop her cherry. Two weeks to lose my fucking mind. Shit.”
“He was beautiful— a perfect specimen of a predator able to lure its prey by his appearance alone.”
“I’d hoped taking her virginity in midclimax would make it easier, but I couldn’t tell if it actually had. I mean, I had mirrors. I knew how big my cock was.”
“This is my pussy, Delaine. My fingers were the first to touch it, my mouth the first to taste it, and my cock will always be the first to fuck it.”
“I was a slave to it, which was ironic since she was supposed to be my slave. She played her part well, make no mistake, but that little pussy of hers owned me. And I didn’t mind one motherfucking bit.”
“She was going to be mega-pissed. For me, that translated into another epic sexcapade. Ding, ding, ding, ding. Triple whammy.”
“I realized how truly inexperienced and foolish I really was, a small-town girl attempting to play in the major leagues with a man who was larger than life itself.”
“When Noah Crawford wanted something, you couldn’t bat a lash around him or you were going to miss seeing how he got it. Not that I was complaining or anything.”
“I suppose if I look on the bright side of things, this means that I can train you to do things the way I like them. But right now, I have a hard-on the size of Texas and I'm not exactly thrilled about it.”
“It wasn't like I'd kissed a lot of guys or was some sort of expert, but the things that man could do with his tongue…”
“Ten minutes to purchase her. One hour to get her lips wrapped around my cock. Three days to taste her juices. Four days to pop her cherry. Two weeks to lose my fucking mind. Shit. Just over two weeks. Fifteen goddamn days.”
“To be the mistress of a married man is to have the better role. Do you realize? His dirty shirt, his disgusting underwear, his daily ironing, his bad breath, his hemorrhoid attacks, his fuss, not to mention his bad moods, and his tantrums. Well all that is for his wife.
When a married man comes to his mistress... he's always bleached and ironed, his teeth sparkle, his breath is like perfume, he's in a good mood, he's full of conversation, he is there to have a good time with you.”
“What to call it - the spark of God? Survival instinct? The souped-up computer of an apex brain evolved from eons in the R&D of natural selection? You could practically see the neurons firing in the kid’s skull. His body was all spring and torque, a bundle of fast-twitch muscles that exuded faint floral whiffs of ripe pear. So much perfection in such a compact little person - Billy had to tackle him from time to time, wrestle him squealing to the ground just to get that little rascal in his hands, just your basic adorable thirty-month-old with big blue eyes clear as chlorine pools and Huggies poking out of his stretchy-waist jeans. So is this what they mean by the sanctity of life? A soft groan escaped Billy when he thought about that, the war revealed in this fresh and gruesome light. Oh. Ugh. Divine spark, image of God, suffer the little children and all that - there’s real power when words attach to actual things. Made him want to sit right down and weep, as powerful as that. He got it, yes he did, and when he came home for good he’d have to meditate on this, but for now it was best to compartmentalize, as they said, or even better not to mentalize at all.”
“Old age isn't a battle, old age is a massacre.”
“I'm praying for you, Mary. I want you to live forever.”
“El amor debe ser como un beso al atardecer..., como el último beso, el auténtico, el verdadero, al término de las historias románticas de la colección Arlequín... ¡El amor debe ser como un aroma de rosas a la hr del crepúsculo!”
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