Hatred is about possession. It is all-consuming, cruel, and vainglorious. When love is allowed to fester, it becomes twisted and corrupt; it settles deep in the heart...and metastasizes, sending its d...
Solus walked over to the young brown-haired man and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, ignoring the look of panic he received in return. "You can call me Solus." His golden eyes trailed meaningful...
I can take care of myself,” I said hotly.“Darlin, you don't even know how to pleasure yourself.
You think I'm gorgeous?”“When I look at you, all I can think about are the the different ways I'd like to fuck you.”“So that's a yes then?” she said shyly.“No, darlin. It's an I-hope-you-weren't-plann...
You wanted to see me, Professor?
In some ways blowjobs are better than sex because when you have a mouthful of cock you can't make snide comments.
I can't believe it. He is sporting a bona fide erection in the middle of class. All because of me.In history you learn about entire kingdoms crumbling into chaos because of a woman—or, in some cases,...
You don't find the concept of illicit love at all engaging?”“The concept, maybe. But in literature? That's like ordering a glass of tap water at a bar.
Isn't that just typical. You're either asking for it, or having it forced upon you without your consent. Who decided women always have to be passive in sex?
I am waltzing with death, flirting with him, but he stands there smiling and saying nothing because he does not need to woo or be wooed: he knows he gets us all in the end.
You are the playground of which I have free reign.
I didn't understand what it was about men—not all men, but a good portion of them—that turned a good, solid “NO” into an “I'm just playing coy; try harder.
Why do women always feel they have to settle for less?
A quick and brutal fuck from behind usually served as an effective reminder of where you stood in the pack hierarchy.
They said the shape-shifters fucked with the enthusiasm of animals—if they didn't devour you with the enthusiasm of one first.
Such a dark green, his eyes. They reminded her of the forest, of all the dangers lying dormant behind that verdant cloak of leaves.
In my experience, the romance novels written about BDSM have about as much in common with actual BDSM relationships as a child playing with a jump rope.
I participate in BDSM, but I wasn't abused as a child. I don't hate women, or particularly enjoy hurting women. Sometimes I make them feel pain, but it's consensual, it serves a purpose—to get them of...
A woman isn't a whore for wanting pleasure. If it were unnatural, we would not be born with such drives.
My sub doesn't pay for me,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “That just doesn't happen.”“But we ordered so much,” I say helpl
