Escaping Reality

When I want something, I go after it. And baby, I want you, and all I can say is you might be smart to run before I get any more into you, but please don't.

If you're worried I'll bite, I promise to tell you first.

You have this deer-in-headlights look sometimes that I'm sure means you're going to run. Run to me, Amy, not from me.

I told you I do not do anything because I have to. And I don't. But to be inside you right now, baby, I have to. I need to. And, yes - right here in the kitchen.

All I know is he's letting me see it, and him, and he is exactly what he preaches. Raw and honest, and intense and I believe in this moment that we are a rainbow of the same colors, none of them bright or beautiful. We are the many shades of gray and black, hoping to find a glimmer of light in each other, not more darkness.

while being alone sucks, losing someone you care about is far worse.

I’m insane for you, Amy. ‘Like’ lasted all of ten minutes.

But just know that I have every intention of making you forget everything but what it feels like to have my tongue and my cock buried inside you.

If you tell me you don’t want to be with me. I will listen. I won’t like it, but I’ll listen. I need you to know that. But when you say you ‘can’t’ be with me, like some obstacle out of your control is stopping you from seeing me, I’m not going to listen.

We are raw and honest, or we are nothing.

Escape, baby. The lack of control is control. When you’re hanging on each moment, anticipating what comes next, it leaves room for nothing else. That’s what I want to do for you. … “And who helps you escape, Liam?” “We’re going to the same place, Amy. I’m not standing outside, watching.” His lips find my neck and then my ear. “I’m right here with you.

He wants you. I want you. I can’t walk away from you, Amy, and I have this sense that you could bolt at any minute. And yes, you’re right. I’m being barbaric. And intense. That’s who I am and I can’t be anyone but me. When I want something, I go after it. And baby, I want you, and all I can say is you might be smart to run before I get any more into you, but please don’t.

Fear and a secret are two different things,” I remind him, pointing out the difference in the two phrases. “Often they come together. A secret that leads to fear in one way, shape, or form.

The two men’s gazes lock and I am suddenly swimming in a pool of testosterone, in need of a life raft.

You’re a beautiful woman who deserves to be properly fucked, and I conclude from your actions and your answers to my questions that you haven’t been. I want to be the man to remedy that. I want it very much.

I think all men get a macho rise out of the idea of creating a baby on some level, but that doesn’t mean they’re happy when the big belly and dirty diapers come around.

I’m not going away, Amy. You do know that, don’t you?” … “I don’t need a protector, Liam.” “I see things differently.” My spine locks into a steel bar. “I’m not your ---” “Not yet. But I want you to be.

And some violinist—” “David Garrett.” “David Garrett,” I repeat, “who you swear will seduce me into loving his music.

You do know I couldn’t let you run, don’t you?” “I wasn’t—” “You were.” “If you think that, then why’d you come after me?” “Because you didn’t want to run. You just thought you had to.” “That’s a little arrogant.” “It’s honest. I like honesty.

But I have every intention of making you forget everything but what it feels like to have my tongue and my cock buried inside you.

Until then,” he says, all velvet and seduction, “I’ll be fantasizing about the moment when the only thing wrapped around me is you.