Empire Of Lust Rina Kent Quotes

I thought we weren’t friends. Let go of me.” “That’s true. We’re not friends, sweetheart. You’re my fucking woman.

Nietzsche said that there’s always some madness in love, but there’s also always some reason in madness.

Other people mean fuck to me as they should mean fuck to you. The only thing that matters is that you’re mine, body and fucking soul, Aspen. I was your first and I’ll make sure to be your last.

He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby becomes a monster. And if you gaze into an abyss for long, the abyss gazes into you.” I stroke his face. “Don’t become a monster, Kingsley.

this type of obsession ran deeper and wilder than I ever anticipated. This type of obsession is a twisted translation of love. You had me long before either of us knew, but now you own my heart, body, and soul, sweetheart.

How does it feel to be called a good girl?

Honesty is just an illusion invented by people to allow them to manipulate others.

So you want us to be friends with benefits, minus the friends part. So should it be called enemies with benefits? A hate-fucking relationship?

Her body is a map of bite marks, sucking marks, finger marks, spanking marks. All the marks.

Aspen might be a wild horse, but she’s my wild horse.

Needless to say, I win. Better wear your best armor, sweetheart, because shit is about to get real when I seriously pursue you.

There’s no pattern to his madness and that’s the most dangerous thing about this stranger.

He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby becomes a monster. And if you gaze into an abyss for long, the abyss gazes into you.

There are sides to us that other people are not supposed to witness under any circumstances. There are dark shadows, jaded edges, and the whole package of untouched corners. But most of all, there are parts that we don’t even like to look at in the mirror. Everyone has a fraction that they dislike. Mine is everything.

And if I refuse, which, for the record, is a one hundred percent chance?” “Then there’s a thousand percent chance that I’ll haul you onto my lap, further bruise that sore ass of yours, and eventually shove the food down your throat.

And she’s still smiling, brighter now, like a much younger version of herself. A version that’s engraved deep inside me. A version that I intend to bring out.

Still buried deep inside me, he walks with purpose to God knows where. While kissing me. And all I can think about is that maybe he’s the yin to my yang.

Fuck, sweetheart. Your lips were made for me. Now, be a good girl, open that mouth and suck me like a good little whore.

A salty taste explodes in my mouth and I realize it’s a tear. A happy tear.

Logically, I should fight. Logically, I should try to run. But logic doesn’t exist on Devil’s Night.

Why search for a man to give you a glass slipper when you could get it yourself?

You’re like a painting of a battle, but whoever said war and art should be watched from afar didn’t have the audacity to come close, touch, breathe, and taste.

I hate this woman with more passion than should be allowed, but I still want to fuck her anyway. Hate-fuck her, to be more specific.

There’s no excitement in knowing when the goal is going to score. Predictability is boring.

Oh, God…” “Bit unfair that he gets the praise for something I’m doing.

W-hore. I’m no one’s whore.” “No one’s but mine, because I’ll eat your pussy like you are one.

How about a trade?” “If it’s not your life for humanity’s peace, I’m not interested.” “I’m too precious to sacrifice myself for something as dull as humanity.

Aspen Leblanc is the war I’m going to conquer and bring to her knees. Literally. Figuratively.

Oh…God.” “Stop praising him when I’m doing all the work.

You’re ridiculously huge,” I mutter. “Couldn’t have a minuscule penis that fits your personality, huh?” “This. Fucking. Mouth.

I’m not kinky. I’m vanilla.” I laugh. “Vanilla is what Gwen eats and breathes instead of air. You, sweetheart, are the definition of a submissive.

I wasn’t going to do anything.” “And you expect me to believe you? You have the sex drive of a bull.” “My dick is honored.

Don’t you dare or I’ll bite your dick off.” “Kinky. You know I love it.

You’re sick, Kingsley.” “And you’re blushing.” “I’m fuming.” “Semantics.

The only way another man will touch you is if he has a fucking death wish. So unless you want some bastard’s death on your conscience out of pure spite, then go ahead and provoke that lawless side of me, sweetheart. I fucking dare you.

I thought we weren’t friends. Let go of me.” “That’s true. We’re not friends, sweetheart. You’re my fucking woman.

You can never be strong if you aren’t broken.

You chase away my darkness and understand me on a level no one else does. You never shied away from my callous side. If anything, you stood right in the path of its destruction, challenging me for more. Not only are you my match and the woman who gave me Gwen, but you also make me a better man, sweetheart.

What I felt for you was obsession at its finest, but over time, I realized, this type of obsession ran deeper and wilder than I ever anticipated. This type of obsession is a twisted translation of love. You had me long before either of us knew, but now you own my heart, body, and soul, sweetheart. Just like I plan to own yours.” I smile, murmuring. “You already have them.” “I do?” “Yeah. You’re my king and I want to be your queen.

Maybe Kingsley nor I were ready for each other then. Maybe we needed the time to reach this version of ourselves. A version that's a little bit broken, a little bit dark, but still fits the other any way. A version in which we are each others worlds.

It is said that revenge is a dish better served cold, and I intend to make the blood in that woman's veins freeze until she wishes for death.

Sometimes he looks at me as if I'm the conquest he intends to wreck into inappropriate pieces, and maybe I look at him like the challenge he'll never win. The black horse that's never going to be tamed. It's push and pull, give and take. Even right now when he thinks I'm completely at his mercy though I'm absolutely not.

If confidence could be put in categories, hers is the quiet one. It's bold, but not enough to have her screaming or letting irrationality take over. She's determined to a fault, too, which is why I know when she decides something, there's no deterring her from it.