Losers Harley Laroux Quotes

I wanted to ride this man like a goddamn rollercoaster and then take his friends for a spin too.

Manson would wait for you in the dark and you’d never see him coming; while Lucas would come in broad daylight, smash your windows out, and set your house on fire.

Do you remember what I used to tell you?” Manson said. “When we were teenagers and we’d drive out here to talk about shit…you’d tell me you didn’t want to see another day…” I remembered that, of course I did. I remembered the despair I felt, the pain we shared, how hopeless I’d been. “If you can get through the night, you’ll see the sun again,” I said, repeating the words he’d told me back then. “Keep chasing the next sunrise.” I closed my eyes as I exhaled. “The night feels really fucking dark, Manson, but I’m still chasing sunrises.

This doesn’t depend on you saying anything. I love you. I’ve loved you. For so long. And I’ll love you, even if you don’t love me back. I’ll love you even if this is the last day I ever see you.

Carefully, with the sharpness of the knife tucked within the curved grip of his hand, he began to probe my entrance with the handle. It was hard, but warm from his hand. The edges were rounded, smooth as it rubbed over my wet, swollen flesh. "You're going to get off on this knife, Jess," he said. "And I'm going to hold you open, nice and still, so you don't get hurt.

Every time we parted, I felt as if I was breaking the surface of a pool: I gasped for air, vision blurred, my body light.

Because you were my glimpse of heaven from hell,” he said. “You were the sun in my sky, and now you’re like a comet sent to earth. A wildfire I can touch…kiss…hold…

The darkness that surrounded us could have stretched on forever, a void in which everything I'd thought I knew had been turned on its head. We were in some other world, a world where pleasure and pain, fear and excitement, were all the same.

Absolutely. I love all those bastards, obviously, but love is a little different with every person you share it with. Sometimes it’s passionate and romantic, or deep and platonic, or any combination in between. A lot of people don’t understand it, but I don’t need anyone’s understanding. I accepted that a long time ago

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Most people didn’t consider being duct-taped and locked in a trunk to be a great start to their weekend. I wasn’t most people, though.

The night feels really fucking dark, but I'm still chasing sunrises.

There was probably a psychology student out there who could write their entire thesis studying my horny brain.

If a guy couldn’t play with my masochism as enthusiastically as he played with my pleasure, then I didn’t want it. There simply wasn’t a nice way to tell your mother that you wanted a guy who could spank you as well as he could fuck. A man who was as comfortable with whips and chains as he was at candlelit dinners. Someone who wasn’t afraid to take control but wasn’t going to make the relationship feel like a cage. Laroux, Harley. Losers: Part I (p. 34). Kindle Edition.

You need someone to punish you properly, fuck you good, and care about you enough not to let you hang out with friends who will stab you in the back the first chance they get.

Girl, we broke into your house, shoved ice up your ass, and fucked you over your mother’s kitchen table. Eat some goddamn cookies.

Kids?” he said. He sounded both terrified and hopeful at the same time. “Yeah, you know, little miniature versions of you…Manson…Jason…Vincent…

Normal people didn’t do that. Maybe normal people were boring.

I never even tried to hurt them, Jess. I don’t like to hurt people... not... not like that.

Then, his voice softly said, "Was that...was that good for you?

Crawl.

He spit the beer into my mouth, all of it, not spilling a drop.

Enjoying your punishment so much it’s making you wet. So cute.

If I cross a line you better damn well use it. Do you understand?

Manson’s voice rumbled eagerly from behind me, deepening with excitement, “And if you want to fuck one of us, you fuck all of us.

That fucking freak… that loser… that absolute weirdo... had given me the best orgasms of my life.

His kiss was tender, the crown jewel on his sadism. How could a man be so carefully cruel, and so brutally gentle?

My whole world was that dark room, those three laughing clowns, the taste of their sex in my mouth... and Manson, watching over it all like a demonic god.

Damn, Jess. You ran with the wrong crowd in high school, you know that? You would’ve fit right in with the freaks.

It didn’t make much sense to me why consensual sex could be considered more taboo than murder. But maybe that was why I didn’t get along very well in “normal” society.

Sleeping next to Manson hadn’t felt strange. It felt like coming home at the end of a long day and sinking into your favorite pillow, like a warm blanket on a cold night.

That’s why the ladies call me Daddy Longlegs,

The burn felt good. There was something about the pain that made me feel alive.

I wanted to make her mine from the inside-out. Shatter her to pieces before I put her back together.

You're going to get off on this knife, Jess," he said. "And I'm going to hold you open, nice and still, so you don't get hurt.

Maybe staying alive for the sake of other people wasn’t healthy, but it was better than the alternative. I found whatever I could to keep me going, no matter how small.

He drank the damn cup rather than give my thong back, and my mouth dropped open.

Your cunt is cuter when your ass is red; funny how that works.

He owned a paddle; he literally owned instruments to inflict pain and humiliation. He was such a freak.

Now I have to make you cry, Jessica.

Vincent was the only one who remained now to be pleased, and slowly, he withdrew his fingers from me and brought them to my lips.

Be a good girl for Daddy Manson, Jess,” he said, a tease in his voice.

We need our privacy now, boys,” he said. “Leave us.

Her smile was like the clouds parting in the middle of a thunderstorm. Sunshine and destruction all wrapped into one. A storm I’d chase to the ends of the earth.

They sat in their churches and shouted “Amen!” to love and forgiveness, before they turned around and used every avenue they could to make those they didn’t approve of pay for merely existing.

Manson Reed - weirdo, freakshow Manson Reed. He made me feel safe and terrified, protected and brutalized, all at once. But it wasn’t only that.  In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to get in his pants.

I felt like I was being left behind. He was able to do what I couldn’t, and although he kept trying to drag me along with him, I still lived with the fear that eventually he’d fix himself and I’d still be broken.

I think we’re all hypocrites, in one way or another. As we grow up and figure out who we are, sometimes our thoughts change before our behavior does. It’s not pretty, and it can be fucked up, but we’re not perfect.

I whimpered as I obeyed. Lucas leaned close, and spat Manson’s cum into my mouth. It dripped down my chin, too much for me to take. It was disgusting — God, it was so hot. It was truly repulsive — it made me shiver with ecstasy.

How’s it feel to be a loser?” he said softly, as I came to his side, arms folded, refusing to meet his eyes. His words dug into me, that condescending tone sliding slimily over my skin. He’d gotten to me. He’d actually gotten to me. And the worst part was... I’d enjoyed it.

I love you. Fuck, I…” My hand was visibly shaking as I held it against her head. “I love you so much, Jess, I feel like I’m losing my mind. But I’m happy, I’m…” My words were getting tangled up. Shit, she’d fucked up my head, but I loved it. “I’m so happy. You make me so happy.

There simply wasn’t a nice way to tell your mother that you wanted a guy who could spank you as well as he could fuck. A man who was as comfortable with whips and chains as he was at candlelit dinners. Someone who wasn’t afraid to take control but wasn’t going to make the relationship feel like a cage.

I had a thing for spanking, undeniably. But telling partners I liked to be spanked usually resulted in a few little smacks during sex and nothing more. It was hard to find the words to explain that I didn’t want a swat; I wanted a fully-fledged, bent over, legs kicking, doubting-my-own-endurance spanking.

Our kiss had faded into the background of my memories, as had all our tense interactions, all my cruel words and haughty looks. I'd buried them, packed them away as if they could be forgotten if they sat long enough in the dark. But there was no forgetting. His presence here was a light in the dark laying bere everything I'd tried to erase.

Spanking and handcuffs felt acceptably kinky, even a little trendy. But there were fetishes for stalking, kidnapping, and captivity, all of which had me practically shivering with desire. They fell under the umbrella of “consensual non-consent,” which involved the submissive person roleplaying that they weren’t willing. All of it got a five out of five from me.

As if any of you could claim to be better than me.” “Oh, no, no, not better,” Jason said. “We’re degenerates, Jess.” “Losers,” said Lucas. Manson smiled. “Freaks.” “But now that we’ve caught you, we don’t ever have to let you go,” Jason said, his lips brushing my neck as he spoke, just behind my ear. “We’re going to keep you. Break you. Remake you into the perfect little fucktoy.

Because you were my glimpse of heaven from hell,” he said. “You were the sun in my sky, and now you’re like a comet sent to earth. A wildfire I can touch…kiss…hold…” He kissed my cheek until I giggled, nuzzling his face against mine. “You’re strong. You’re brave. You’re so damn beautiful. You’ve shaken us up, Jess. All of us.” I could hear the smile in his words. “I just can’t keep my damn mouth shut, so…there it is.

Sounds like compersion,” he said. “It’s when you feel happy for someone else’s happiness. Like when Vincent flirts with you, I know he’s enjoying himself and enjoying your company. So it makes me happy.” “I had no idea there was a word for that,” I said. “It’s like the opposite of jealousy.” “Yeah, it’s like that. Finding joy in other people’s joy. That’s part of why the four of us get along so well. We really want to see each other happy.

He was intoxicating, a flawed god I couldn’t resist worshiping. His imperfection made him sacred, his strength made him holy. But the lust he inspired in me made him wicked, and the ease with which he bent me to his will was the closest thing to divinity I could imagine.

I already knew. I knew, because he’d shown me. But when he whispered those words in my ear, it stopped my world entirely. “I love you.

If you leave and spend your life with someone else, I’ll love you still. I want you to be happy, Jess, no matter who it’s with. And I’ll love you through all of it. Always. Forever.

Love. He loved me. Manson Reed loved me.

I love every inch of you,” I said, growling it against her skin. “Inside and out, baby. I could spend years telling you all the ways I love you, all the little things you do that drive me fucking wild. So I think I will. I think I’d like to spend a very long time showing you how much I adore you.

I love you too.” What fucking terrifying words. But they didn’t kill me to say, the world didn’t implode. So I said them again, to be sure. “I love you so much, Jess.” God, my stomach was in knots. “I fucking love you.” The more I said it, it was like I couldn’t stop. The words felt like weights dropping out of my mouth, making me lighter every time. “I love you so much that I can’t let you go.

We’d fought for our love. Fought with ourselves, with each other, with those who wanted our love to not even exist. But this was our victory. This was our forever.

Never?” she said, and it took me a moment to realize what she was asking. But when I answered, I really fucking meant it. “Never.

You wanted a dance with the devil, Jess. Well, now you have four.

To the losers, the freaks, and the outcasts. Keep chasing sunrises.

God, I’d even let the word “Master” roll off my tongue as I’d said my goodbyes to Manson.

I’d wasted all my time getting an education when I should have been pursuing my true calling of becoming a trophy wife and grandbaby-producer as quickly as possible.

He’d put his hand around my throat and squeezed when he kissed me,

The losers decided to show up.

Manson had broken the shell, the picture-perfect Jessica Martin I’d built for the world to fawn over. The Jess that remained was too exhausted to know who she was now.

I wanted to feel it again, feel it harder. I wanted to rip open his viciousness and take it all in. I wanted to ride this man like a goddamn rollercoaster and then take his friends for a spin too.

I wanted to feel it again, feel it harder. I wanted to rip open his viciousness and take it all in. I wanted to ride this man like a goddamn rollercoaster and then take his friends for a spin too. But a girl like me wasn’t supposed to be with guys like them.

I didn’t know what the hell I wanted anymore. Except the big plate of biscuits and gravy in front of me. I wanted that in my stomach immediately.

There was nothing there but lust, and what had happened at the party was a result of that. Never mind that I’d never felt so free, so wildly alive as I had last night. Entrusting myself to those boys in the pursuit of pleasure had awakened a part of me I never knew existed.

You smell like weed,” he growled, mouth against me. “And dick.” “Two of my favorite things,

The only reason I could think of, the one that kept running through my brain again and again, was that she was falling for us as much as we were for her. Not even in a sexual way. The lust was already there; we’d all acknowledged that a long time ago. It wasn’t about that. This was different. It was like she was falling for us, for who we were and what we brought to her life.

I wanted to blow her mind. I wanted to show her what life with us could be like, if she wanted it.

I had to figure out who I was without all the bullshit, without the mask and haughty attitude.

God, it was so hard to put this into words. It was embarrassing, yes, but also the concept was still so new. Why did being controlled and overcome make me feel like everything was okay?

I lay there silently on his lap, thoroughly fucked and filthy. I couldn’t think of a better way to start the weekend.

At home, we had our separate spaces, but whenever we were all away, we usually slept together. It was comforting, easing unspoken anxieties and silent fears. Like surrounding ourselves with the feeling of home. Because really, our home wasn’t a house. It was each other.

You killed my pussy and then raised it from the dead.

She’d endured flogging, fucking, and being tied up in a trunk. Now she deserved to feel like the princess she was.

You killed my pussy and then raised it from the dead.” “Mm, zombie pussy,” I said, and she snorted with laughter.

How do you feel?” “Like I’ve been kidnapped and ravaged by four wicked villains,” she said. “In other words, I feel fantastic.

When I’d transferred to Wickeston High, Jess and Vincent had been my first true temptations to sin. A seductress and a jester, challenging my carefully guarded thoughts.

I couldn’t live as anything less than fully myself,

Now, the curtain was drawn and the costumes were gone. Jessica was just Jess, a woman trying to figure out who the hell she was like the rest of us.

Fuck me like you hate me, Manson. Make it hurt.

That pussy absolutely needs its own security detail. But I can’t follow you around twenty-four-seven, so…

It felt like such a silly thing to admit that a little cut on my finger made me feel so much. If I’d tried to tell that to anyone else in my life, they would have laughed or been disgusted, horrified, maybe even concerned.

As we grow up and figure out who we are, sometimes our thoughts change before our behavior does. It’s not pretty, and it can be fucked up, but we’re not perfect. We’ve all done it.

Finding myself bent over his lap in the middle of a party had been one of the most defining moments of my life, bizarre as that was.

God, the fact that this turned me on as much as it shamed me was so confusing. There was probably a psychology student out there who could write their entire thesis studying my horny brain.

That was what kept drawing me back in, that was what had intrigued all of us. Jessica went through life wearing a mask, but beyond that mask was a wild, twisted woman, aching for a way out.

Bringing the woman I wanted into the family we’d built, intermeshing our lives and growing a relationship together, felt natural to me. But to most people, it didn’t. Society wanted things to be labeled, to fit into neat and tidy boxes. Sex was meant to be exclusive, romantic, and flawless. Friends were only friends and never lovers, nothing could grow or change. Who you used to be could never be separated from who you’d become.

Reject the boxes you’re offered and people will keep trying to shove you into them. They’ll put their labels on you and demand you adhere to them, and then if you don’t, it becomes your own damn fault that life is difficult.