Prick

Don't what, Princess?" I ask. "You're the one who's rubbing up against my cock like it's a magic lamp.

There's good sex, and then there's sex where the memory takes up permanent residence in your brain, changes the fucking chemical balance or something so that you crave it like a damn fix. It makes you jones for it, gets under your skin like an itch. That's the kind of sex this is.

When I put my mouth on hers for the first time, it's fucking magic. I can't describe what she tastes like except that it's everything that's right with the world.

So you're out here mainlining caffeine and nicotine, or what? Gotta have my fix. I mean, I prefer a good morning fuck to wake me up. Well, it's a good thing you've got the coffee and the cigarettes, then.

You're the tattooed, chain-smoking, beer-guzzling, train wreck, son of the movie star who's marrying my family-values, ex Marine Senator father. You're a tabloid headline, standing right here in front of me! Yeah? Well, you're the goody-goody, stuck up, boring-ass virgin who's so uptight she can't find anyone to punch her v-card except the manwhore from her school who will screw literally anyone. And then turns out to be the most boring fucking lay I've ever had.

But Katherine is different from all of those other girls. She never wanted anything to do with me, writing me off as some kind of filthy manwhore. That fact makes me respect her as a good judge of character, since it's pretty accurate.

Brighton’s not exactly a big place,” Caulter says. “Everyone knows everything about everyone. It’s practically incestuous.

My dick is not moving from where it's lodged, pressed up against the zipper of my jeans. I think her holier-than-thou attitude might have even made it harder. Clearly, my dick has poor taste in women.

You're not so bad, Princess. I mean, for a stuck up bitch.

Don't Caulter -- Don't what Princess? You're the one who's rubbing up against my cock like it's a magic lamp.

Of course we get along, I say. What I don’t say is that Caulter’s face was buried between my legs this morning before I even got out of bed.

For my husband. If I weren't married to you, how in the world would I be able to write a book called Prick? You are always inspirational.

I hate you.” She has the most fuckable mouth I've ever seen. "The feeling is completely mutual," I say, before I bring my mouth down on hers, crushing her lips against mine.