Hans Sj Tilly Quotes

This book is dedicated to Nero, the beautiful bastard who started it all. I love your unhinged ass. - This battle belongs to all of us. Because we’re all human. And that makes it ours.

I’ve never punched a geriatric, but I’m not strictly against it.

if he’s gonna be obsessed with me, he’d better be obsessed with only me.

A man with a basement full of guns and camera angles of my house, who also keeps body bags in his truck, has to be a red flag. Right?

The hard lessons are the ones you usually heed more.

I wanted to fucking keep you, Butterfly, from the moment I met you.

All her. All my Cassandra. Spread out like a fucking centerfold. For someone else. My vision tints an ugly shade of green, and I storm out of my house, book in hand.

This man has never said so much as a sentence to me before today. He’s a complete stranger to me. But if he pulled that thick dick out of his jeans right now, I’d let him fuck me raw atop this couch.

He tastes like candy. Like sugar and fruit and childhood memories.

And I can see the home screen. And the photo saved as the background is… me. Asleep in his bed.

She had the same hair color as me. And wore it the same length. So it stays. It will always stay. Because she’s the reason I am what I am.

How often do you find yourself needing to blow up your own shit?

Something warm wraps around my heart. Hans will always love me.

I don’t regret knowing him. Something sharp bites into my neck. I’ll never regret loving him.

She’s so fucking thick. And soft. And beautiful. And the spark behind her eyes is so trusting and healthy and…

And then she repeated it back. Just as simple. Just once. Hans. And I haven’t fucked anyone since.

Are you obsessed with me?

On one side of the room, the gray couch faces a subpar TV mounted above a fireplace she never turns on because someone—me—keeps disabling the gas line because someone—her—has left it on unattended one too many times. She’s thankfully given up on calling out the repair man, because I don’t want to feel bad about her spending money on repairs when I’m only going to fuck it up again.

The curvy little vixen who just turned thirty, twelve days ago—making her nine years my junior and too young for me—and has been doing her best to kill me with food poisoning through her little deliveries.

Do you still trust me?” I have no right asking her this after what she just watched, but I ask it all the same. She nods, her head only moving the smallest bit. “I do.” A flash of her in white fills my mind. Soon, I’ll have her saying I do in another way.

But if he’s gonna be obsessed with me, he’d better be obsessed with only me.

My hot neighbor just cut my underwear off and is using it like a rope to tie me up.

The mirror is still slightly steamy—accounting for her wet hair when she left the house—and the mix of shampoo, body lotion, and hair products makes me want to roll around on her shaggy bathroom rug. But I don’t. That would be weird.

I melt into his body. “My stalker.” I smile.

Call me that again,” I rasp. Her hand moves in a small circle. “Baby?” I nod.

After Freya’s body was found in Vegas, abused and discarded, her cause of death labeled as a drug overdose, Mom gave up.

His eyes snap down to my hand, and I watch him swallow before he grips my fingers with his own. His hold is tight, like he’s worried I might say just kidding and pull my hand back.

I’m a sick fuck. I’ve crossed some pretty big lines when it comes to you. I won’t pretend otherwise. And I never wanted to drag you into the mess that is my life, but I still wanted to have you.” He

Before I could stop myself, I placed my calloused palm in her smooth one while she said I’m Cassie, your new neighbor. And since my brain could come up with nothing better to say, I replied with Hans. Just that. Just my name. And then she repeated it back. Just as simple. Just once. Hans. And I haven’t fucked anyone since.

Finally, thank you to my parents for banging decades ago. Between nature and nurture, you formed my brain into a pile of mush capable of creating worlds. I’ll be forever grateful for this talent that has somehow crawled out of my brain and put itself on paper. The fictional world is so much more fun that working in sales.

A shudder runs down my spine, and I wonder if there’s something I can do to them that would make them rot overnight so she’s not able to make anything else with them. I slide my hand into my pocket, ready to pull my phone out so I can search to see if such a thing is possible, but I stop myself. Because if Cassandra woke up tomorrow to a bowl of rotten produce, she would feel sad. She’d probably frown. Potentially pout. And I can’t be the cause of that.

I tip my head back to look up at him. “Are you obsessed with me?

Oh, that’s a faraday bag. I disabled all the features on the phone that matter, but this will ensure no one can track it here.” “So, cool spy shit,” I say nonchalantly, like all of this is normal. “Cool spy shit,” Hans agrees.

Unless you cheat on me,” I tell him. “If you do that, I’ll chop your dick off.

If you know me so well, Cassandra Lynn Cantrell.” He spreads his arms in a do tell gesture. I ignore him using my full name. “I know your interior designer sucks. And I know Hans is going to kill you.” Gabriel narrows his eyes. “My mother furnished this house.” “Sorry, but I’m pretty sure your mother hates you.

Home?” her mom gasps. “You’re living with him?” Cassandra stares up at me and whispers, “Help.” “But you’re doing such a good job,” I whisper back. The corner of her mouth twitches.

I look down and see I’ve finished every bite. I believe Cassandra learned her love for food from her mom. But, and I’ll take this to my grave, her mother’s food is delicious rather than barely edible, so I nod.

the woman who’s staring across at my topless man and not at the road. Leaning across Hans, I press my middle finger to the glass. “Cassandra.

But Cassandra is mine. She’s mine and that makes it different. It makes me want to protect her. To stand between her and everything sharp in this world. It makes me crazy.

He’ll always come to me.

You’ll never be rid of me.” I withdraw the small syringe and bite the cap off. “You’ll never be lost from me.” I lean over Cassandra and push the needle into her skin. “I’ll always take care of you.

Hans, mind opening his shirt for me? I don’t want to fuck it up and accidentally gut him.” He turns his attention to the man and whispers like he’s sharing a secret, “I’m still learning.

She has an iced coffee in one hand and a Target bag in the other, and she uses her perfect hip to shove the car door shut.

He’s totally obsessed with me.

Could he see me touching myself? Would he have sat here, gripping that big dick of his, jerking off while he watched?

Hans locking me up and keeping me as his little sex pet might not be a bad thing.

you’re going to fuck me like the brat I am.

God, Butterfly, you’re a fucking freak.

God, Butterfly, you’re a fucking freak.” Her hips shift against my touch while she slides her mouth up my length. “Sorry,” she pants. But her lips never leave my dick. They’re still brushing against the tip, getting covered in precum with every word. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” Her back arches, and she closes her lips back around my length. “You can’t apologize with my dick in your mouth.

But you can apologize by swallowing.

Yeah,” I grunt. “Suck Daddy’s dick. Make him come.

I know the three men run some crime organization. And I know my man has a scary reputation for killing lots of people. But it kind of feels like I’m at my boyfriend’s holiday work party.

My stomach protests at the last bite, but I can’t waste it. It doesn’t matter how bad her creations are, my deep-seated need to consume every bit of Cassandra won’t let me throw them away.

Leaning down, I carefully stick the newest Post-it on top of the last one, adding it to my little stack of yellow paper squares.

Leaning down, I carefully stick the newest Post-it on top of the last one, adding it to my little stack of yellow paper squares. One for every delivery from the girl next door.

I slide my hand into my pocket, ready to pull my phone out so I can search to see if such a thing is possible, but I stop myself. Because if Cassandra woke up tomorrow to a bowl of rotten produce, she would feel sad. She’d probably frown. Potentially pout. And I can’t be the cause of that.

rug. But I don’t. That would be weird.

Every man and woman fighting with me has hands covered in blood. And that’s okay. Because vengeance is rarely clean.

Come for me, Butterfly. Flutter that pussy around my cock and pull me with you.

My dirty little Butterfly.

Fuck, Butterfly. You’ve soaked through your pristine little panties. I should probably take them off.

He’s a complete stranger to me. But if he pulled that thick dick out of his jeans right now, I’d let him fuck me raw atop this couch.

The girl who flutters through life, no regard for her own safety, is looking at me like she wants me to fuck her.

I can accept that sucking his dick, right here and right now, might not be the best idea. But goddamn, tell that to my lady bits.

I’m not special. I’m just a man. But I’m a man with the means and the will to do what has to be done.

When he bends down to pull on a pair of black boxer briefs, I get a glimpse of his balls hanging down between his legs, and I have to brace my hand on the wall. Lord have mercy, why is that hot?

I’m not afraid of him. This is exactly what I want. But when a man that looks like that, like he might pull your soul out of your body through your vagina, you back away. Hans frees the last button, and I bump into the mattress.

A girl like her should wear… Nothing. A girl like her should wear absolutely nothing, and she should spend her nights on her back with her thighs spread, her hands pinned, and her body heaving… underneath mine—where no one else can ever lay eyes on her.

I’ll never be the man I planned to be. I’m going to end up as someone else. Someone darker.

She has an iced coffee in one hand and a Target bag in the other, and she uses her perfect hip to shove the car door shut. A little midday shopping trip, playing hooky from work?

Christ, Hans. You can’t just Goldilocks this girl and expect a happily ever after.