Parker S Huntington Quotes

I knew myself well enough to know I didn’t survive books. They tore me to shreds. I’d never met an inanimate object as talented at breaking hearts as a book.

Suicide is a war of two fears—fear of death and fear of the thing that pushes you toward it. The stronger side always wins. And if you lose, the penalty is death.

Adolescent love is the greatest pain of all. It teaches you the power other people have to destroy you.

I wish I had cancer. Or some other grand battle. Dementia, stroke, organ failure. If I lose those fights, I’m brave. But the thing I’m battling is my mind. And if I lose, they’ll just call me weak.

Sometimes, when I read, I realized I was happiest in a world that wasn’t mine.

If I tell you anything worth learning, it’s this. Love is the most expensive thing you’ll ever own. You pay for it with grief, tears, and a piece of your soul, but in return, you receive happiness, memories, and life.

Pain is growth. Fear is risk. You can’t be happy if you’re not growing and taking risks.

The existence of a word proves that someone in the history of humanity felt the same way I did and gave it a name. It means we’re not alone. If there’s a word for what we're feeling, we’re never alone.

Ya’aburnee is Arabic for you bury me. It is the hope that you will die before your one true love because you cannot bear to live without them.

She was broken. I was destroyed. This had disaster written all over it.

Tears are the language of grief. And grief is the language of love.

Don’t shrink yourself to help others grow.

If you had to change yourself to be accepted, you didn’t need that person in your life in the first place. Because it wasn’t you they wanted to be with. It was their version of you.

Everyone will hurt you. The key to happiness is finding someone worth enduring the pain.

You’re going to be a headache, aren’t you?” “A headache?” I cocked my head. “You kidnapped me, you psycho. I’m not gonna be a headache. I’m going to be, at the very least, a deadly brain tumor.

You’re my favorite plot twist.

It was a promise I shouldn’t have made. One that defied the hardest lesson I’d ever learned. Love is expensive. Its currency is grief. And sometimes, it costs more than you can afford.

you are breathing, and it is beautiful, and i am so grateful for that

Even if it means I’ll never be the man you give yourself to, I’ll always do anything to protect you.

Love is just being there for someone. It’s that simple.

You’re rich. We get it.” She yawned. “The only billionaires I like are fictional.

Beasts were never born—they were made.

Perfection is unattainable. It’s stained by the suffering required to chase it. Perfect is something you think with your head. Lagom is something you feel with your heart.

Opportunity lasts a moment. Regret lasts a lifetime

if we could just stay this way forever, maybe it wouldn't hurt to breathe

He taught me strength. Most importantly, he delivered the cruelest lesson of all—there’s beauty in every beast. Thorns in every rose. And a love story can blossom—even from the carcass of hate.

She tasted like sweet venom. Warm and cottony and dreamlike. Deadly toxic. Gorgeously addictive.

Books. Rain. Libraries. Driving alone at night with my favorite playlist in the background. Traveling—mainly for the food. But the historic stuff is decent, too.

I’d never met an inanimate object as talented at breaking hearts as a book.

Because that was what we were, essentially. Authors of our own stories.

People assume strength is loud. In reality, strength is silent. It is resilience, the will to never surrender your dignity. And sometimes, the only person who knows strength exists inside you is you.

They say love is ten percent falling and ninety percent picking yourself back up. What they never tell you is how quick that ten percent passes and how long that ninety percent lasts.

Falling in love makes you feel immortal. Don’t you want that?

Storms will always rage. Don’t run from them. Face them. Some things in life can only be learned in a storm.

I liked being too much because it meant I was never too little.

Here’s a life lesson I’d never wanted to learn. Our secrets are nothing but a string of memories we wish to forget.

I lean against the door, watching my wife exist. Loudly. Messily. Unapologetically. Just the way a woman loved is meant to bloom.

Falling in love with you is like diving blindly into a book, not knowing it’s destined to be my favorite. Whatever’s more than love, I feel it for you. I am only ever going to be in love with you.

Lucy: Why do you want me to stay? Asher: Because I like you. Lucy: Why do you want me to go? Asher: Because I like you.

The problem with books about suicide is they’re written by people who are alive.

Don’t succumb to the fire. Be the bigger flame.

She uncurled my fingers one by one and pressed my palm to my heart. “Hatred comes from here. When you hate someone, a piece of them is lodged in your heart. If you don’t let the hate go, you live with that person inside you forever.

I wasn’t concerned about your sex life because you were a patient,” he said casually. “I’m concerned about it because I want to fuck your brains out until you lose the ability to walk straight. Unfortunately for me.

Love is the most expensive thing you’ll ever own. You pay for it with grief, tears, and a piece of your soul, but in return, you receive happiness, memories, and life.

Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak. Courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen. Winston Churchill

You make my soul breathe fire, my beautiful dark desire.

What you're experiencing isn't a dry spell. It's a dust bowl. Tell me, do you find cob webs in there every time you get yourself off?

We may not be enemies anymore, Shortbread, but we will never be lovers.

You're breathing, Charlie. You are breathing, and it is beautiful, and I am so grateful for that.

Love always wins. After every war, there’s a baby boom. After every storm, spring sweeps in and everything blooms. It’s always darkest before the dawn. Love is an effortlessly potent fuel. It is easier to maintain than hate. It doesn’t consume—it fuels.

Is this how Julia Roberts' character feels like in Pretty Woman? Two parts princess, one part whore?

Grief is a side effect of love. It lasts as long as the love lasts. You get used to the pain until you’re reminded it’s there.

there was something perpetually tragic about us. even in moments of peace. we were two empty planets, bound by grief and a gravitational pull neither of us could deny. destined to collide and end in a fiery death.

When I loved a book, I didn’t read it once. I read it over and over again—until the pages fell off, until I could anticipate the words before I read them, until they sunk into me and melted inside my bones in a way that never happened with books I’d only read once.

i am infront of you, around you, in your head. and i'm here to stay

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. Lao Zi

The pendants unite two souls. Fate knows what we don’t.

My first. My only. My always.

I don’t want someone who holds an umbrella over my head when it rains. I want someone who doesn't even own an umbrella. Someone who watches me balter in the rain when they don’t know the word exists. Someone who stares at me instead of the stars in the sky.

Tacenda originates from the Latin participle taceo for ‘I am silent’. Taceo is also the verb for ‘I am still or at rest’. Taceo reminds us silence isn’t a sign of weakness. It is a sign of rest, of certainty, of contentment. Silence is the best response to people who don’t deserve your words.

You’re going to be my favorite mistake.

I would let him ruin me as thoroughly and impressively as Elon Musk destroyed Twitter.

It was the first moment I let myself admit I wanted to be fucked by Dr. Tatum Marchetti. Ruthlessly hard and mercilessly filthy.

It was difficult to reconcile the existence of fairness when Tate Marchetti had been born with an assault rifle for a cock. Thick, hard, and longer than should be legal.

Forgiving others is a myth. The only prisoner freed when you forgive someone is you.

I never really gave much thought to Fate, but every time I considered how hard the world must have worked to get our paths to intersect so many different ways, I became a believer.

Break me.” She stared at me like she wasn’t completely whole and didn’t entirely care. “Then put me back together, mismatched, scarred, and chaotic as this storm.

I'd been born with a spine, and I fully intended on using it. Flowers wilted. Girls didn't.

I feel like your soul and mine are made of the same stuff.

« See you in the next life. Maybe we’ll actually be brothers in that one. »

Hiraeth is a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was. It is the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past. I’ve always thought of it as the saddest entry in the dictionary.

Bolt is a contronym—a word that is opposite itself. If you bolt something, you hold it together. If you bolt, you separate by fleeing. Bolt is a reminder that words were made by humans, and sometimes, humans make mistakes. Mistakes are powerful, not because they have the power to ruin your life, but because they possess the power to make you stronger.

He taught me darkness. He taught me strength. Most importantly, he delivered the cruelest lesson of all—there’s beauty in every beast. Thorns in every rose. And a love story can blossom—even from the carcass of hate.

Thus with a kiss I die.

And, I realized, I love her. “Ask me the question, Tiger.” Her eyes fluttered open, not staring at me but into me. “Is this just lust?” “It's everything.

If you keep staring at my cock with your mouth open like that, I’m going to take it as an invitation to enter.” My mouth watered. “Please, do.

Balter?” “To dance—artlessly, with no grace, no skill, but always with enjoyment.

People assume strength is loud. In reality, strength is silent. It is resilience, the will to never surrender your dignity.

Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore. André Gide

querencia.

Just remember you are the most precious woman in my life.” “Why are you reminding me that?” “Because I’m about to treat you like a dirty whore.

By the time we fell asleep, I’d planted flowers in Nash’s graveyard of haunted memories. Wilted ones, because those were me. And he watered them with stormwater, because that was him

Art is not stuff.” He put his hand over mine to stop me from tapping my knee. “It’s a person’s soul poured into material. Souls are priceless, Zach. Try to protect yours any way you can.

I do. Let’s cut the shit and stop pretending that we’re strangers. You never belonged with Reed, Little Tiger. He is domesticated. You are wild. To tame you would be a travesty. The sooner you get that, the sooner you can move on.

Finifugal originates from the Latin word fuga, for flight. It shows us that endings are fleeting. We may hate them. We may fear them. We may avoid them. But we don’t need to. Like sunsets, endings can be beautiful. The next morning, the sun always rises again, because there is no such thing as an ending, just a new beginning.

Ob-gyns don’t have the best dirty talk game in the world, huh?”My back was to Tate when he answered me. “Bet you all the pennies in your cheap little purse that I can make you drip cum on my face in less than ten seconds—before I even use my tongue or cock.

Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts. Winston Churchill

I fell down on my knees. My hands hit the concrete, and I felt something. I picked it up, squeezing it in my hand. A penny. He’d left me a gift. His very own version of goodbye.

Do you think you’re in anyone’s favorite memory?

Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage. Anaïs Nin

Cages aren’t made of bars. They’re made of thoughts, expectations, and fear.

her presence soothed me where i normally burned

I like my things mine. Concealed from view. For my own private entertainment.

Evil had a face. It was breathtakingly beautiful…and belonged to the man who had just become my future husband.

No, my precious Shortbread. That once broken, a heart can never mend. Function—yes. But you cannot repair something that is already in pieces.

People are hardwired to believe charity is selfless. In reality, charity is giving to yourself by giving to others. That’s not selfless. That’s penance.

He did, because he gave me the most wonderful gift before he died. He gave me Venom.

We weren’t even acquaintances. Just two passing strangers who happened to be mourning the same person.

Even the devil needs a friend.

They say time dulls the pain. They lie.

If I had to boycott assholes out of my artistic menu, I’d be starved for movies, books, and songs.

Dementia, stroke, organ failure. If I lose those fights, I’m brave. But the thing I’m battling is my mind. And if I lose, they’ll just call me weak.

When I sleep, I dream. When I wake, the nightmare begins.

Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.

Courage is doing what you're afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you're scared. Eddie Rickenbacker

If you see something, say something. This isn’t just a slogan. It’s a creed. There is no such thing as an innocent bystander.

I was not a forgiving person. I latched onto grudges and raised them like a favorite pet, never forgetting to feed them, entertain them, and keep them company.

Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim. Nora Ephron

Who are we to defy the universe?

Ya’aburnee

The past is a chapter, not the entire story. Stop letting it decide the next pages.

Charlie kissed Kellan, and he wrote an entire book about it. Named it after her taste. Immortalized her inside the same coffin he’d locked his soul. And above all, he’d given them a happy ending.

Fate is a hurricane. You think you know where it's going. You think you're safe. And just when you think you’ve weathered the storm, its path moves directly into yours. You, Emery Winthrop, are my hurricane. My fate. My Durga. My Tiger.

Nash reminded me of a favorite song. One you play so often you think you can't stand anymore. But in the silence, when the world is quiet and your brain is pliant, the chords repeat in your mind, and you remember it’s your favorite melody.

Bolt is a contronym—a word that is opposite itself. If you bolt something, you hold it together. If you bolt, you separate by fleeing. Bolt is a reminder that words were made by humans, and sometimes, humans make mistakes. Mistakes are powerful, not because they have the power to ruin your life, but because they possess the power to make you stronger. The worst mistakes make the greatest lessons, and those who learn them… bolt. It’s your journey to figure out which bolt.

I love words, because they're mine. Utterly, completely mine. I can share them with others. I can keep them to myself. I can use them over and over again. No matter what I do, they’ll always be mine. No one can take them from me. Want to know what the best part is?” “I’m sure you’ll tell me.” “The existence of a word proves that someone in the history of humanity felt the same way I did and gave it a name. It means we’re not alone. If there’s a word for what we're feeling, we’re never alone.” “Tell

Moira is the idea that each person possesses a predetermined course of events that shapes his or her life. It is the idea that some events are inevitable—a person’s fate (every decision leading to the present) and their destiny (the future) is not always in his or her control.

I felt it now, reading Ma’s email, wondering how someone who shared my blood could turn into a coxswain, Vineyard Vines-wearing, Niçois salad-ordering, country club-attending, nouveau riche douchebag, who surrounded himself with people named Brock, Chett, and Tripp with two Ps.

Tell me how you want me.” "Forever.

Karma must be on a lunch break, because a full twenty-five minutes had elapsed since I wished my fiancé would drop dead, yet he remained very much alive.

Is your family terrible? I need to know whether to compliment my snack with a shot of something strong." "Get yourself two shots. Actually, bring the whole bottle. We'll share.

I wondered what kind of heinous crimes I committed against the human race in a previous life to deserve these two nutjobs as my love interests.

You never asked for any of this, Dallas. I'm well aware. Every man in your life has failed you, including me.

My eyes glued to his sinewy forearm as he whisked the mixture. Good Lord.

I’d never met an inanimate object as talented at breaking hearts as a book.

Romeo and I slid into a routine. A routine where I did whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, and he stopped bothering me about it.

To all the girls eager to marry a grumpy, tortured billionaire… This one’s not for you.

He smelled of beer and leather and cigarettes and trouble. Like a bad boy.

Guilt is pain’s fuel, and it rekindles it every time the flame fades.

We were geode crystals. Beautiful. Tough. Shiny. Resilient. Destined for a life sheltered inside an ugly rock.

This is why ribs form a cage around the heart. It’s an untamed animal, and wild animals can’t be trusted.

she tasted like sweet venom. warm and cottony and dream-like. deadly toxic. gorgeously addictive

She craved my words, just like I craved the ones on her shirt.

Because you’re mine, Tiger,

Nash Prescott was thrift-shop beauty, threadbare and jaded, the memory of something once beautiful lingering as he looked on the world with war-torn eyes.

I mouthed words I loved to calm myself, letting them form on my lips without releasing them into a universe that destroyed.

I dug my nails into his chest

realized, with depressing clarity, that she wasn’t the venom at all. She was the antidote. But the quantities were all off.

More importantly—she was finally coming to terms with the cover she’d been dealt with in life and remembering what the most important part of the book was. The spine.

Break.” I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, cheek, temple. “I’ll put all the pieces back together.” Even if it’s the last thing I

His poor dick. Probably goes to bed screaming, “Help! My owner beats me every night.

I hate you for knowing Kellan wanted to kill himself and keeping it from me. I hate you for not saving him. And most of all, I hate myself for still wanting you.

Ruined by whipped cream.” I tsked, just the way he had the night we’d met. “How the mighty have fallen.

About fifty packs of luxury gum formed militant stacks across the table. What was up with my fiancé’s oral fixation? Maybe he had bad breath. A side effect of being full of crap.

Is this supposed to be funny?" "Is this supposed to be serious?" "You're being obtuse." "You started it.

Last time, I was an asshole.” She giggled, stars in her eyes. Stars I’d put there. “And what are you now?” Now, I’m in love.

Ruined by shortbread.” He popped a cube of gum into his mouth as his imposing figure descended the stage. “How the mighty have fallen.

Taking joy in other people’s misery was one of the smallest pleasures in life.

Not to mention integrity, a concept I found as mythical as mermaids. I did atrocious things and still slept like a baby at night.

Touch my fiancée in any capacity whatsoever—even breathe in her direction, in fact—and I’ll relieve you of your lousy excuse for a spine.

Suicide is a war of two fears—fear of death and fear of the thing that pushes you toward it. The stronger side always wins. And if you lose, the penalty is death. I

This was our first non-toxic interaction. How pathetic that it made me elated.

It had never once occurred to me that Dallas Townsend was a three-dimensional character with needs, wants, and motivations.

any pleasure worth having is always laced with a bit of pain.

Sometimes, the struggle is important. Struggle changes people more than success.

Sometimes, you have to forgive people if you still want them in your life.

McMasterpiece.

Love is expensive. Its currency is grief. And sometimes, it costs more than you can afford.

He will only love me in the dark. He will never love me in daylight.

Losing Kellan taught you his worth. I apologize in advance for what losing me will teach you.

I don’t hate you, Tate. I might even like you a little. See you in the next life.

Starless nights were a sign secrets needed to be shared. The abyssal darkness provided protection, and he’d said, if I was going to tell a secret, it had to be under an empty sky.

You can’t love someone who doesn’t love herself.

Lies hurt. Truth slays.

Pain and scars are the armor beauty wears.

Here’s the thing about disappointment. It means you expected something.

He will stab you in the heart, then ask you why it hurts so much.

Just the tip,” she bargained, and never in the history of Planet Fucking Earth has it ever been just the tip.

It gave me great satisfaction that she mishandled her book for me. Her books were her entire world.

There was nothing to say. The final crack to the mirror had been dealt. We couldn’t fix it. We were irreparably damaged.

My pinky brushed his. I stuck it out, letting it drag along his skin before retreating. His bumped mine. Was it sad that I considered this foreplay?

This is not the beginning of something,” Kellan warned. “If anything, it’s the end.

Silence is the best response to people who don’t deserve your words.

Living is an addiction, and it’s better to crave it than hate it.

People fall in love every day. Good people. Bad people. All the colors in between. They love fast, and hard, and deeply. And sometimes, they are lucky enough to be loved back.

That was the thing about despair. It built up like a Jenga tower. Higher and higher, on shaky ground. One bad move, and you were toast.

They say time dulls the pain. They lie. Guilt is pain’s fuel, and it rekindles it every time the flame fades.

See you next year, Venom.

If you want to be better, do it because it makes you happy. Not because you think it will make someone else happy or because you feel like you have to.

I love you, Carina Amelia Gallo. You were made for me, and no matter where you are or how much time passes, I will always find you, because our love is fated, and Romeo needs his Juliet.

If books were men, they would be the player who dated all the Jessicas in the tri-state area, cheated on you with your best friend, and dumped you for your sister through a text message.

Carina Amelia Andretti, I promise to love you through time and adversity.” “What are you doing?” “Saying my vows.” I pinched her ass. “Stop interrupting. It’s rude.” I dodged her gut punch.

Don’t do something because you think you have to. Do it because you want to. No one on their deathbed has ever said, “Remember all the things I wanted to do but didn’t? Those were the good times.

Who gives a fuck about your first love? Give a big round of applause for your second love, because they taught you love still exists after you thought it never could again. ​— ​That One Pinterest Pin

Dozens of emerald-green frames littered the wall, and in each of them, our love letters were proudly displayed. In the center, like a nucleus, rested my letter, surrounded by a stunning cerulean frame.

I’d give you the ability to look at yourself through my eyes. You’d see that you are not the storm. You are lightning in the storm. You are what pierces through the clouds and shines brightest. You'd see exactly why I love you.

I love words, because they're mine. Utterly, completely mine. I can share them with others. I can keep them to myself. I can use them over and over again. No matter what I do, they'll always be mine. No one can take them away from me

I believed a special place existed somewhere for people who were so tortured on Earth, they felt the only way out was to end it all. A place where they got to experience everything they missed out on in this plane. Love. Happiness. Relief.

It threw me off balance. I recovered slowly, like I’d suffered a career-ending injury. Kobe and his torn Achilles. Beckham and his snapped Achilles. Durant and his torn Achilles. Why are all these motherfuckers injuring their goddamn Achilles?

As his teammates whooped and hollered, he jogged to the half line, never one for victory dances. But when his foot hit the center circle, he glanced to the bleachers, and as if he’d known to look for them, his eyes met mine. Victory shone in them.

No, it’s not. It’s about your fear. Your inability to lose control. You’ve always been the person others depend on, and now it’s your turn to depend on me. It scares you. You don’t want to tell me you love me because you think it gives me power over you.

I’m sorry the world was so cruel to you. And I’m sorry you had to carry this experience alone.” Her fingers interlaced with mine. “Most of all, I’m sorry no one taught you that it’s okay not to be okay. Healing is like treading water. You drown as much as you float.

She grabbed my face and kissed me, pressing her lips hard against mine. “We just got married in the hallway an hour before our wedding.” And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I reached under her back and knees and lifted her fireman style. “Honeymoon. Now.” We’d never been normal anyway.

A morsel of what I wanted to happen flashed behind my lids. Us. Tangled in the jungle gym. Screwing on the swings. Him, eating me out on the slide. I needed to run straight to my room, do fifty Hail Marys, and bathe in holy water. This was the playground I brought Jonah’s daughter to once a week. I’d never be able to play with Rowling there again.

For the rest of the plane ride, she sat as far from me as she could, her face turned out the window. She didn’t speak when we landed. She didn’t speak when I dropped her off. And she didn’t speak when I asked her, like a fucking High School Musical reject, when I’d see her next. I had my chance—two chances, in fact—and I’d ruined them both. I ruined her

She was too narcoleptic to speak. Or move. How long had this been going on? Was she like this yesterday? Had I missed her illness in my quest to prove to my brain that my dick wasn’t the one behind this train wreck’s wheel? I touched her forehead again. It sizzled. “Sweetheart.” “Please get out.” The words clawed past her throat. “Someone needs to take care of you.” “That someone definitely isn’t you. You made that clear these past couple days.” I said nothing. She was right. I hadn’t bothered to check on her. Perhaps I’d wished she’d check on me. In truth, she’d already gone beyond any expectations in trying to make whatever it was between us work. Meanwhile, I’d shut her down. Repeatedly. “Shortbread, let me get you some medicine and tea.” “I don’t want you to nurse me to health. Do you hear me?” She must have hated that I’d seen her like this. Weak and ill. “Call Momma and Frankie. It’s them I want by my side.” I swallowed but didn’t argue. I understood she didn’t want to feel humiliated. To be taken care of by the man who ensured she understood her insignificance to him. How did her bullshit meter not fry? How could she think I really felt nothing toward her? “First, I’ll get you medicine, tea, and water. Then I’ll call for Hettie to stay with you. Then I’ll notify your mother.” I tugged her comforter up to her chin. “No arguments.” She tried to wave me out, groaning at the slightest movement. “Whatever. Just go. I don’t want to see your face.” I gave her what she wanted, though as always, not in the way she expected. The sequence of actions didn’t proceed as promised. First, I contacted Cara to dispatch the private jet to Georgia. Then I called my mother-in-law and Franklin—separately—demanding their presence. Only then did I enter the kitchen to grab water, tea, and ibuprofen for Shortbread’s fever. Naturally, like the chronic idler he often proved to be, Oliver still sat at the island, now enjoying an extra-large slice of red velvet cake I was pretty sure was meant to be consumed by Dallas. “What are you still doing here?” I demanded, collecting the things I needed for her. He scratched his temple with the handle of his fork, brows pulled together. “You invited me here. You wanted to watch a soccer game, remember?” I did not remember. I didn’t even remember my own address right now. “Get out.” “What about the—” I snatched the plate from his fingers, admitting to myself that I’d treaded into feral grounds. “This cake wasn’t for you to eat.” “You’ve gone insane in the ten minutes you were gone.” Oliver gawked at me, wide-eyed. “What happened to you? Did Durban not get her hands on the latest Henry Plotkin book and take her anger out on you?” Shit. The Henry Plotkin book. I shoved Oliver out with a fork still clutched in his grimy fist, dialing Hettie with my free hand. She half-yawned, half-spoke. “Yes?” “Dallas is ill. You need to come here and take care of her until my in-laws arrive in about two hours.” “Oh, yeah?” Her energy returned tenfold. “And what the hell are you gonna do during this time?” “Freeze my balls off.”(Chapter 58)

I’ll take care of it.” I snatched the offending bottle from the counter. “Are her sister and mother with her?” “Frankie, yeah. Natasha went to sleep in a guest room. Guess she felt like she could take a break because Dal’s feeling better.” I took the stairs two at a time. With each step I climbed, my spirits lifted. The lilt of Shortbread’s sweet, bell-like voice filled the corridor. Quiet, but unmistakably her. Why did it take me until today to realize I enjoyed her voice? Her sound? Her general existence? Maybe because it marked the one thing that wasn’t complete silence that my ears cherished. When I reached her door, I raised my fist, intending to knock. I couldn’t wait to show her the book. Childish pride filled me. I supposed this was what kids felt when they did something they knew would grant them their parents’ approval. I wouldn’t know. My parents rarely paid attention to my existence. “…can’t believe you didn’t tell me you two were having S-E-X.” Franklin abbreviated the last word, whisper-shouting in excitement. A chuckle lodged in my throat. I wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but staying back for a few moments to hear Dallas’s response wouldn’t enter the list of top ten-thousand worst things I’d done in my life. “How’s the sex?” Franklin demanded. “It’s okay, I guess.” Dallas coughed, still weak. “I’m not suffering.” Understatement of the generation, sweetheart. “Does that mean that you like him?” Frankie gasped, holding her breath. For an odd reason, I did the same. There was no pause, no hesitation, in Dallas’s response. (chapter 58)

You want me to fuck you?” I leaned down, bringing her face to mine so our noses crushed together. I grabbed the front of her dress, twisting, tightening it against her skin until the fabric began pulling apart and tearing. “You want me to knock you up?” “Yes,” she breathed out. “Yes.” I dropped to the marble, resting my back against the vanity. “Ask nicely.” “Please.” “Nicer.” She crawled toward me on all fours, straddled my lap, and grabbed my hand, bringing it between her legs. Her fingers guided mine into her slick pussy, two of hers joining mine inside her warmth. My lips found her nipple, biting down through her dress. Together, we fucked her cunt down to our knuckles, curling until her walls pulsed. I watched our fingers disappear inside her. She arched her back, trying to accommodate as much of us as she could. Her lips drifted to the shell of my ear. “Please, please, please.” I tore my fingers out of her, ripped her dress down the middle, and captured both sides of her waist, sinking her onto my cock, down to the hilt. Her head fell forward. She bit my shoulder, drawing blood, her hips bucking. She was so tight it felt like I was fucking her ass. Her walls squeezed around me, milking my dick for cum. I let her ride my length until my impatience won over, and I pulled her off me, flipped her over, and lowered her on all fours. The marble was cold and hard against her knees. I love seeing that spoiled little brat take all of my cock, feeling the discomfort of it. My silver-spooned nymph. I entered her from behind. She drove back, meeting each of my thrusts. My fingers curled around her neck and steered her upward until her back plastered against my front. She craned her head around and captured my lips, slipping her tongue past my teeth. Her back arched, fingers dipping between her legs, searching for her clit. I smacked them away, then landed a palm on her ass. “Rom,” she whined. “I need to come.” “What you need is to be fucking grateful.” My blood brought my point home, covering every inch of her back, arms, and tits, matting her hair in clumps. I released her throat and pet the crown of her head, whispering praises into her ear. “Such a good girl.” Words I never thought I’d say. Especially to this particular girl, who was anything but good two hundred percent of the time. “If only you took directions so well when you’re not filled with my cock.” I reached around her and found her clit, rewarding her with a single flick. She cried out and fell forward, on her hands and knees again, pushing onto my cock. More crimson drops splattered onto her back. I’d reopened my wound, and fresh red painted her spine. I dipped a finger into it, then spelled my name across her back dimples. “Who owns your ass?” I growled. “You.” “Louder.” “You.” “Now crawl forward and show me your cunt from behind. I want to see if it’s worth my cum.” With a reluctant moan, she inched away from my cock, writhing about two feet away. She started to turn when I hissed, “I don’t want to see your face, Mrs. Costa. Just the cunt I stole from my enemy.” She spread her thighs apart, exposing her pussy. It dripped on my floor, her juices mixing with my blood, creating a pink puddle at her feet. I stroked my cock, coated with her wetness, scented by the wife I couldn’t get enough of. I grinned, the release tickling my shaft. “Embarrassed?” “No. Empty.” Fuck me sideways. How this woman would ever end up with a wuss like Madison, I had no idea. She would make meatballs out of him before the reception. (Chapter 55)

My little undomesticated pornstar pushed me so hard between her legs, my oxygen levels plummeted. She clenched around my fingers through her panties as an orgasm rolled through her in waves. The gush of warmth soaked the cotton. I kissed her through the fabric, again and again, knowing tomorrow everything would return to its proper position—my boundaries, my limits, my hang-ups, my demons. “Can I return the favor?” Dallas sat half up. “But not through your briefs. Men’s briefs always smell like old cheese that’s been sitting in a crockpot for days. I know because whenever my housekeeper went on vacation, we all took turns doing the laundry. And, well, I really shouldn’t say, but Dadd—” Not wanting the moment to be ruined with a conversation about her father’s underwear, I pulled forward, shutting her smart mouth with a kiss that tasted like her sweet pussy. At first, she pinched her lips and made a face, unsure what she thought about her own taste. But when I dragged the tip of my hard cock along her slit through our clothes, she went wild and kissed me back, shoving her tongue so deep down my throat I thought she would fish out my dinner. “Yes.” She wiggled against me. “Please, sir, may I have some more?” She’d quoted Oliver Twist while getting fucked. Truly, the woman was one of a kind. Knowing it was idiotic, and dangerous, and deranged, I pushed my tip through her slit. She was tight—tighter, still, through the tattered, stretched cotton of her ruined panties—but wet and sleek, ready for what was coming. The sensation, how warm and taut she felt, completely undid me. I thrust harder and deeper, entering her through our underwear, fucking her slowly with only flimsy fabric between us. I tore my mouth from hers, eyes glued to my cock each time it sank into her. I could barely fit inside, she was so tight. This was, by far, the best fuck I’d ever had. She panted. “Is this what people call dry-humping?” No. Nothing about this was dry. I was basically fucking her through our underwear. Only, explaining to her that this was full-blown sex with a side order of my issues was not in my plans for tonight. Or ever. “Sure.” Each push brought me closer to a climax. From slow, controlled, teasing thrusts designed to drive her mad with desire, I quickly derailed to jerky, manic, need-to-be-inside-this-woman plunges. Of a man so hungry for human connection, for affection, for carnal needs to be met and satisfied. My head grew dizzy. I’d taken into consideration the possibility that Dallas couldn’t come through penetration. It merely placed her in the same majority as most females on Planet Earth. But she shook, clawed, and reached for me, looking ready to climax. Her tits bounced and jiggled each time I slammed into her. Her mouth opened in awe, probably because this orgasm felt different from the first two. Deeper and more violent. She clutched the lapels of my shirt, shoving her face in mine. “Lose the underwear.” She met my thrust, groaning when my crown peeked past the slot in my boxer briefs. “I want you to come inside me. I want to feel you.” I was about two seconds from fulfilling her demand. Luckily, my logic grabbed the steering wheel, which my cock had seized sometime this evening, and derailed the situation from full-blown calamity. I managed to wait until she came, just barely, before pulling out, flipping her onto her stomach, and jerking off. I aimed for her bare ass but somehow came on her hair. No matter. She had plenty of time to wash it. Her agenda wasn’t exactly full. Dallas fell back onto the pillows, a lopsided grin on her face. (Chapter 31)