“I'm so fucking in love with you I don't even know what to do with myself anymore.”
“I don't want to be yours. I want to be your fucking REAL.
-REMY”
“He just fucked my name right in front of me”
“Why’d you want to have sex with me? To have a f*cking adventure? What was I supposed to be? Your one-night-f*cking stand? I’m every woman’s adventure, damn you, and I don’t want to be yours. I want to be your f*cking REAL. You get that? If I f*ck you, I want you to belong to me. To be mine. I want you to give yourself to me—not Riptide!”
“I love him, Melanie. I love him He's not just a star, he's the whole fucking sky to me. He's the sun and every planet in this galaxy.”
“You’ve claimed me, little firecracker. You kicked a pair of two hundred pound men’s asses. I will never get over that. You kicked my whores out. Pete told me. You staked your claim on me, even before you realized I’d staked mine already.” He fists my hair and pulls me close to his lips. “I’m yours now … Even if I screw this up, I’ll still be your screw-up.”
“You’ll leave me the second it gets too steep, and you’ll leave me with nothing – when I want you like I’ve never wanted anything in life. You’re all I think about, dream about. I get high and low and it’s not about you now, it’s not even about me anymore. I can’t sleep, can’t think, can’t concentrate worth shit anymore and it’s all because I want to be the fucking ‘one’ for you.”
“You can't, Brooke, you can't leave. You're mine”
“I’ve never seen a man go after a woman like that. Holy sh*t, it’s like porn with the romance.”
“You tie me up in knots. I want to play you a thousand different songs so you can get a clue of what... I feel inside me...”
“I'll never recover if he breaks my heart. ~Brooke”
“What if someone comes?" I half-heartedly protest. "No one's coming here but you.”
“Have you ever been anyone's?"
"No. And you?"
"I've never wanted to."
"Neither have I. Until I saw this lovely girl in Seattle, with big gold eyes, and pink, full lips... and I wondered if she could understand me...”
“He's not just a star, he's the whole fucking sky to me.”
“I'll never have enough of you, never.”
“That's why I didn't want to touch you I knew I'd go crazy if I touched you, and now, it tears me open to ask you to be with me when I know I'm just going to do something to hurt you again!
"Yes! Yes you probably are, you idiot! And it's going to be a damn skydive for me, and I'm going to hang on tight and just jump with you because that's what you do to me.”
“We won't be having an affair." I stare dumbly, certain I just heard an organ in my body crack in my chest. His hands clamp around me, and he crushes me to his body as he slides his nose along the shell of my ear. "When I take you, you'll be mine," he says, a soft promise in my ear.”
“There he is, a woman's living, breathing fantasy, doing his slow, cocky turn, spiky black hair, darkly tanned chest, dimpled smile-killer smile-all in the package of Remington Tate. He's perfection itself, and a new surge of hormones sweeps through me as I do what the rest of the crowd does and take in his visual, so blatantly on display in those low riding boxing shorts and so strikingly sexy, he becomes the center of my attention. The center. Of my. World.”
“He grabs me and scoops me up like I weigh nothing, then he raises his voice as he swings around, angry and commanding. “It’s because of this woman I’m still fighting!”
A sudden silence falls across the crowd, and Remington’s hard, enraged voice continues telling them, “Next time I'm on the ring, I'm going to fucking win for her, and I want all of you who hurt her tonight to bring her a red rose and tell her it’s from me!”
“It feels like he's marking me. Like he's preparing me for something monumental. That could both change and ruin my life.”
“You're all I think about, dream about. I get high and low and it's all about you now, it's not even about me anymore. I can't sleep, can't think, can't concentrate worth shit anymore and it's all because I want to be the fucking 'one' for you and as soon as you realize what I am, all I'll be is a fucking mistake!”
“….he grabs my wrists and pins my arms up above my head, locking them in one hand. "Are you mine?" he asks gruffly, as his hand returns between my thighs and briefly enters me. I gasp. Undone. Delirious. "I'm yours." His expression is tense, ravenous, so hot as he scrapes his finger deep into my channel. "Do you want me inside you?" My need clogs my windpipe as pleasure shoots down my legs. "I want you everywhere. All over me. Inside me.”
“My body melts into his hard one until his strong arm, coiled around my small waist, is all that hols me upright. I don't know if I'm bad for him, or him for me. All I know is that this is as inevitable as an incoming tsunami, and I'm just bracing for the swim of my life.”
“I love him. He’s not just a star, he’s the whole fucking sky to me.”
“You wanted me." His breaths come fast, his eyes wild. "Here I am." He fucks his cock into me ten times, fast and hard, making me yelp in delight of his claiming, and when my muscles seize up and my body prepares for another earth-shattering orgasm, he lets me come, keeping the frantic pace, and then growls and prolongs his own orgasm…”
“I feel claimed and bonded to him like animals do. I feel like I've already been caught and trapped and he's merely priming me, leaving me to simmer in my juices, anxiously waiting for the moment when he takes his first bite of me.”
“He stands watching me, motionless in those drawstring pants, his legs braced in a fighting stance, his eyes bursting with need. His broad shoulders jerk with his breaths, and he curls his fingers into fists at his sides. The deep roughness of his voice scrapes my flesh. "Come here then.”
“I can see he thinks he's the ultimate creation, and he seems to believe every woman here is his Eve, created from his ribcage for him to enjoy. I'm both aroused and infuriated, and this is the most confusing feeling I've ever felt in my life." Brooke Dumas, REAL”
“His dark hair is perfectly recklessly up today, those tanned muscles flexing as he extends out his arms and does his little turn. And here I am, my breath caught between my lungs and my lips as he turns around and scans the crowd. As soon as he spots me, his eyes come alive, as alive as I feel when he smiles at me. He holds my gaze while those dimples flash, and I swear he stares at me in a way that makes me feel that I am the only woman here.”
“In the serene world of mental illness, modern man no longer communicates with the madman: on on hand, the man of reason delegates the physician to madness, thereby authorizing a relation only through the abstract universality of disease; on the other, the man of madness communicates with society only by the intermediary of an equally abstract reason which is order, physical and moral constraint, the anonymous pressure of the group, the requirements of conformity.”
“من عرفوني وأنا في الرّابعة من عمري، يقولون إنني كنت شاحباً ومستغرقاً في التأمل، وإنني لم أكن أتكلم إلا لأروي هذيانات. ولكن حكاياتي، في معظمها، كانت أحداثاً بسيطة من الحياة اليومية، أجعلها أنا أكثر جاذبية بتفاصيل متخيلة، لكي يصغي إليّ الكبار. وكانت أفضل مصادر إلهامي هي الأحاديث التي يتبادلها الكبار أمامي لأنهم يظنون أنني لا أفهمها. أو التي يشفّرونها عمداً، كيلا أفهمها. لكن الأمر كان خلاف ذلك؛ فقد كنت امتصها مثل إسفنجة، وأفككها إلى أجزاء، وأقلبها لكي أخفي الأصل؛ وعندما أرويها للأشخاص أنفسهم الذين رووها تتملكهم الحيرة للتوافق الغريب بين ما أقوله، وما يفكرون فيه.”
“Things worth having don't come easy... You have to fight for it until you're tired of fighting, and then you take a breather and fight some more ... Don't give up. You'll regret it.”
“Success. I turned back to my sandwich, only to find that it wasn’t there anymore. Maybe because it had been hijacked.
“Give me that!” I told the vamp, who was holding it firmly against his chest, a determined look on his face.
“What ees zat?” he demanded, eyeing my prize.
“Cheese.” I held it up.
“Zat ees not cheese.”
“How do you know?”
“Eet is orange.”
“A lot of cheese is orange.”
“Non! No cheese ees that color. Cheese comes from zee milk. Zee milk, eet ees white. When ’ave you seen milk that looks like zat?”
I held up the square of little slices and pointed at the bold-faced label. “Processed American Cheese.”
He snatched the package, without letting go of his hostage. And eyed it warily. “Eet says ‘cheese food.’” He looked up, obviously perplexed. “What ees thees? Zee cheese, it does not eat.”
“We're not puzzle pieces, Steph. There's 'no you complete me' guy out there, and the beauty of this day and age is I don't need one.”
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