Rivals Series Quotes

Why I am Passionate and Dedicated 1000% to producing and bringing my books Loving Summer, Bitter Frost, and other book series to the Screen is because these are the very books that I was cyber-bullied on. When confronted by bullies, you don't shy away, but you Fight Back. Many people have not read the books, but believe fake news and damaging slanders against them and me as a person because it was a marketing strategy used to sell my books' rival books. By bringing these very books to the screen, people can see how different my books are to theirs. Also, most of all, it is pretty darn fun and fierce for me, as a female Asian writer, director, and producer to bring these fan favorite books to screen.

This “who’s on top” banter continues until one wrestler (who has slyly gone to hide behind a chair) leaps upon his rival with an animal cry. The pair then proceeds to create a series of tableaux that appear to be from the Kama Sutra, Vatsyayana's ancient Indian textbook of carnal satisfaction. Occasionally, the tension is broken by a wrestler who picks up a large object, such as a table, to throw on the other's head, as if suddenly disgusted by his forbidden love.

Few watched the human homeworld as she did, which meant there were fewer rivals for her harvests. Her predations. Reijik Station, she mused. Her fingers twitched in their plasteel cage as she wondered what manner of feast this harvest might provide.

Democratic periodicals in the North warned that the governor’s stance would compromise highly profitable New York trade connections with Virginia and other slave states. Seward was branded “a bigoted New England fanatic.” This only emboldened Seward’s resolve to press the issue. He spurred the Whig-dominated state legislature to pass a series of antislavery laws affirming the rights of black citizens against seizure by Southern agents, guaranteeing a trial by jury for any person so apprehended, and prohibiting New York police officers and jails from involvement in the apprehension of fugitive slaves.

He spurred the Whig-dominated state legislature to pass a series of antislavery laws affirming the rights of black citizens against seizure by Southern agents, guaranteeing a trial by jury for any person so apprehended, and prohibiting New York police officers and jails from involvement in the apprehension

These (Shakespeare, Milton, and Victor Hugo) not only knit and knot the logical texture of the style with all the dexterity and strength of prose; they not only fill up the pattern of the verse with infinite variety and sober wit; but they give us, besides, a rare and special pleasure, by the art, comparable to that of counterpoint, with which they follow at the same time, and now contrast, and now combine, the double pattern of the texture and the verse.  Here the sounding line concludes; a little further on, the well-knit sentence; and yet a little further, and both will reach their solution on the same ringing syllable.  The best that can be offered by the best writer of prose is to show us the development of the idea and the stylistic pattern proceed hand in hand, sometimes by an obvious and triumphant effort, sometimes with a great air of ease and nature.  The writer of verse, by virtue of conquering another difficulty, delights us with a new series of triumphs.  He follows three purposes where his rival followed only two; and the change is of precisely the same nature as that from melody to harmony. -ON SOME TECHNICAL ELEMENTS OF STYLE IN LITERATURE

There was nothing like getting your cock sucked by a dragon. Their saliva was pure ecstasy all on its own. Alessio was one of the most skilled cock suckers I’ve experienced. Still, his skill didn’t rival Donovan’s or Tylendel’s. But damn, he was fantastic! He was moaning as he sucked my cock and I knew he was savoring my precum as it leaked from my slit. I could feel his hands gripping my ass cheeks as he bobbed on my dick.

Remember? We have a rematch. And this time, it’s my turn to shine.” With his goggles on, Sterling got into his stance, keeping an eye on the Professor. “Oh? I didn’t realize that you were so dull.” I put my goggles on and took my stance as well, making sure that Professor Trinkott was within my line of vision. Challenge accepted. “Ha, ha, joke all you want, Alvara. Just don’t come crying to me afterwards.” “I don’t cry when I win.

The political process is dominated by rival elites committed to irreconcilable beliefs [...] the politics of ideology distorted our view of the world and confronted us with a series of false choices between feminism and the family, social reform and traditional values, racial justice and individual accountability. Ideological rigidity has the effect of obscuring the views Americans have in common, of replacing substantive issues with purely symbolic issues, and of creating a false impression of polarization.

It is expected of them as it is expected of those who come from the Black Syndicate. We are a feared Court, probably only rivaled by one other, but there are still areas of light there. The people of the Fire Court know what they guard and protect so valiantly and do not mind being called such things. There is still love and loyalty and laughter in the darkness if you know where to look, even if others do not believe it exists.” “When you described your home, nothing sounded dark about it.” “Because I know where to look,” he replied, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. “And you may be a pain in my ass sometimes, but I would never call you wicked. I would never fear you,” she said.

wide open falsehood the clandestine truths rival till the end in a series of duels pardon the drapery language I choose Waltz in Vienna has taught me to use every tall room a fiction leatherbound treasure books up to the ceiling gold spine upon spine the guile and the treason the faith and allegiance wide open falsehood the clandestine truths rival till the end in a series of duels pardon the drapery language I choose the author grew fat to imagine his lead pen careening gave voice to the scheming an Aryan cabale to dethrone the guile and the treason the faith and allegiance to the empire unknown the baron and his mistress dine in a fine banquet hall as rebel insurgents plot in the attic space crawl the guile and the treason the faith and allegiance now lie in my hand

Several dozen of the non-English Wikipedias have, each, one article on Pokémon, the trading-card game, manga series, and media franchise. The English Wikipedia began with one article and then a jungle grew. There is a page for “Pokémon (disambiguation),” needed, among other reasons, in case anyone is looking for the Zbtb7 oncogene, which was called Pokemon (for POK erythroid myeloid ontogenic factor), until Nintendo’s trademark lawyers threatened to sue. There are at least five major articles about the popular-culture Pokémons, and these spawn secondary and side articles, about the Pokémon regions, items, television episodes, game tactics, and all 493 creatures, heroes, protagonists, rivals, companions, and clones, from Bulbasaur to Arceus. All are carefully researched and edited for accuracy, to ensure that they are reliable and true to the Pokémon universe, which does not actually, in some senses of the word, exist.

The moderate person contains opposing capacities to the nth degree. A moderate person can start out hot on both ends, both fervent in a capacity for rage and fervent in a desire for order, both Apollonian at work and Dionysian at play, both strong in faith and deeply doubtful, both Adam I and Adam II. A moderate person can start out with these divisions and rival tendencies, but to live a coherent life, the moderate must find a series of balances and proportions. The moderate is forever seeking a series of temporary arrangements, embedded in the specific situation of the moment, that will help him or her balance the desire for security with the desire for risk, the call of liberty with the need for restraint. The moderate knows there is no ultimate resolution to these tensions. Great matters cannot be settled by taking into account just one principle or one viewpoint. Governing is more like sailing in a storm: shift your weight one way when the boat tilts to starboard, shift your weight the other way when it tilts to port—adjust and adjust and adjust to circumstances to keep the semblance and equanimity of an even keel.

The essence of Roosevelt’s leadership, I soon became convinced, lay in his enterprising use of the “bully pulpit,” a phrase he himself coined to describe the national platform the presidency provides to shape public sentiment and mobilize action. Early in Roosevelt’s tenure, Lyman Abbott, editor of The Outlook, joined a small group of friends in the president’s library to offer advice and criticism on a draft of his upcoming message to Congress. “He had just finished a paragraph of a distinctly ethical character,” Abbott recalled, “when he suddenly stopped, swung round in his swivel chair, and said, ‘I suppose my critics will call that preaching, but I have got such a bully pulpit.’ ” From this bully pulpit, Roosevelt would focus the charge of a national movement to apply an ethical framework, through government action, to the untrammeled growth of modern America. Roosevelt understood from the outset that this task hinged upon the need to develop powerfully reciprocal relationships with members of the national press. He called them by their first names, invited them to meals, took questions during his midday shave, welcomed their company at day’s end while he signed correspondence, and designated, for the first time, a special room for them in the West Wing. He brought them aboard his private railroad car during his regular swings around the country. At every village station, he reached the hearts of the gathered crowds with homespun language, aphorisms, and direct moral appeals. Accompanying reporters then extended the reach of Roosevelt’s words in national publications. Such extraordinary rapport with the press did not stem from calculation alone. Long before and after he was president, Roosevelt was an author and historian. From an early age, he read as he breathed. He knew and revered writers, and his relationship with journalists was authentically collegial. In a sense, he was one of them. While exploring Roosevelt’s relationship with the press, I was especially drawn to the remarkably rich connections he developed with a team of journalists—including Ida Tarbell, Ray Stannard Baker, Lincoln Steffens, and William Allen White—all working at McClure’s magazine, the most influential contemporary progressive publication. The restless enthusiasm and manic energy of their publisher and editor, S. S. McClure, infused the magazine with “a spark of genius,” even as he suffered from periodic nervous breakdowns. “The story is the thing,” Sam McClure responded when asked to account for the methodology behind his publication. He wanted his writers to begin their research without preconceived notions, to carry their readers through their own process of discovery. As they educated themselves about the social and economic inequities rampant in the wake of teeming industrialization, so they educated the entire country. Together, these investigative journalists, who would later appropriate Roosevelt’s derogatory term “muckraker” as “a badge of honor,” produced a series of exposés that uncovered the invisible web of corruption linking politics to business. McClure’s formula—giving his writers the time and resources they needed to produce extended, intensively researched articles—was soon adopted by rival magazines, creating what many considered a golden age of journalism. Collectively, this generation of gifted writers ushered in a new mode of investigative reporting that provided the necessary conditions to make a genuine bully pulpit of the American presidency. “It is hardly an exaggeration to say that the progressive mind was characteristically a journalistic mind,” the historian Richard Hofstadter observed, “and that its characteristic contribution was that of the socially responsible reporter-reformer.

businesses that could benefit from the way networks behave, and this approach yielded some notable successes. Richard came from a different slant. For twenty years, he was a ‘strategy consultant’, using economic analysis to help firms become more profitable than their rivals. He ended up co-founding LEK, the fastest-growing ‘strategy boutique’ of the 1980s, with offices in the US, Europe and Asia. He also wrote books on business strategy, and in particular championed the ‘star business’ idea, which stated that the most valuable venture was nearly always a ‘star’, defined as the biggest firm in a high-growth market. In the 1990s and 2000s, Richard successfully invested the money he had made as a management consultant in a series of star ventures. He also read everything available about networks, feeling intuitively that they were another reason for business success, and might also help explain why some people’s careers took off while equally intelligent and qualified people often languished. So, there were good reasons why Greg and Richard might want to write a book together about networks. But the problem with all such ‘formal’ explanations is that they ignore the human events and coincidences that took place before that book could ever see the light of day. The most

During the 2016 US presidential campaign, the hatred shown toward Hillary Clinton far outstripped even the most virulent criticisms that could legitimately be pinned on her. She was linked with “evil” and widely compared to a witch, which is to say that she was attacked as a woman, not as a political leader. After her defeat, some of those critics dug out the song “Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead,” sung in The Wizard of Oz to celebrate the Witch of the East’s death—a jingle already revived in the UK at the time of Margaret Thatcher’s death in 2013. This reference was brandished not only by Donald Trump’s electors, but also by supporters of Bernie Sanders, Clinton’s main rival in the primaries. On Sanders’ official site, a fundraising initiative was announced under the punning title “Bern the Witch”—an announcement that the Vermont senator’s campaign team took down as soon as it was brought to his attention. Continuing this series of limp quips, the conservative commentator Rush Limbaugh quipped, “She’s a witch with a capital B”—he can’t have known that, at the Salem witch trials in the seventeenth century, a key figure had already exploited this consonance by calling his servant, Sarah Churchill, who was one of his accusers, “bitch witch.” In reaction, female Democrat voters started sporting badges calling themselves “Witches for Hillary” or “Hags for Hillary.”48

Meanwhile, he continued to speak out on behalf of black citizens. In March 1846, a terrifying massacre took place in Seward’s hometown. A twenty-three-year-old black man named William Freeman, recently released from prison after serving five years for a crime it was later determined he did not commit, entered the home of John Van Nest, a wealthy farmer and friend of Seward’s. Armed with two knives, he killed Van Nest, his pregnant wife, their small child, and Mrs. Van Nest’s mother. When he was caught within hours, Freeman immediately confessed. He exhibited no remorse and laughed uncontrollably as he spoke. The sheriff hauled him away, barely reaching the jail ahead of an enraged mob intent upon lynching him. “I trust in the mercy of God that I shall never again be a witness to such an outburst of the spirit of vengeance as I saw while they were carrying the murderer past our door,” Frances Seward told her husband, who was in Albany at the time. “Fortunately, the law triumphed.” Frances recognized at once an “incomprehensible” aspect to the entire affair, and she was correct. Investigation revealed a history of insanity in Freeman’s family. Moreover, Freeman had suffered a series of floggings in jail that had left him deaf and deranged. When the trial opened, no lawyer was willing to take Freeman’s case. The citizens of Auburn had threatened violence against any member of the bar who dared to defend the cold-blooded murderer. When the court asked, “Will anyone defend this man?” a “death-like stillness pervaded the crowded room,” until Seward rose, his voice strong with emotion, and said, “May it please the court, I shall remain counsel for the prisoner until his death!

By seeking to remake all the existing traditions and institutions deemed to be flawed beyond reform, totalitarian democracy came in full collision with its liberal rival and became, in [Jacob] Talmon's words, 'an exclusive doctrine represented by a vanguard of the enlightened who justified themselves in the use of coercion against those who refused to be free and virtuous.' Liberal democracy, he argued, proceeds differently. It acknowledges uncertainty, imperfection, and limited knowledge and works with the assumption that individuals may not be coerced into following a predetermined path and that they are capable of reaching a state of order and prosperity through a gradual process of trial and error.

The vital ingredient that was always missing from idealism and panpsychism was mathematics. Scientific materialism used math, and its rivals didn’t, and that’s why science became the dominant ideology. If idealism and panpsychism are able to use math too, they can replace science. Ontological Fourier mathematics with its dimensionless (mental) and dimensional (material) waves is how the gap is bridged between mind and matter

You just grew a jungle in your kitchen, rivaled Elsa in the do you want to build a snowman department, and invented the best new drink with your mind. All the rest is fluff.

To explain how we got to this seemingly intractable place, a little history is required—never a simple proposition in a part of the world where rivaling versions of the past are a dense thicket. The 1930s saw a series of Arab revolts against the influx of Jewish migrants to Palestine, which was then under British control. This wave of Jewish immigration was regarded by many Palestinians as a colonial imposition, a perception that was further cemented when British troops and local police put down the Arab uprising with tremendous force, fueling further resentment. When Palestine was partitioned in 1947, a move with overwhelming Arab opposition, and Israel declared statehood the next year, the first Arab-Israeli war was locked in. These were the years that Palestinians call the Nakba, or catastrophe: roughly 750,000 Palestinians were expelled, hundreds of Palestinian villages were destroyed, and thousands were killed, with many of the horrifying truths about these atrocities finally escaping Israel’s own Shadow Lands in recent years. Of course Palestinians would resist such ethnic cleaning with violence of their own. Yet rather than seeing Arab resistance for what it was—a nationalist, anti-colonial battle over land and self-determination (with some anti-Semitic elements, to be sure)—many influential Zionist leaders portrayed the entire Palestinian cause as nothing but more irrational Jew-hatred, a seamless continuation of the very same anti-Semitism that had resulted in the Holocaust, and that therefore needed to be crushed with the kind of militarized force that Jews had not been able to marshal in Nazi-controlled Europe. Within this imaginary, the Palestinian, as the Jew’s new eternal enemy, was treated as so illegitimate, so irrational, so other, that Israelis believed themselves to be justified in reenacting many of the forms of violence, dehumanizing propaganda, and forced displacement that had targeted and uprooted the Jewish people throughout Europe for centuries, a process that continues to this day with ongoing home demolitions, Israeli settlement expansions, targeted assassinations, settler rampages through Palestinian communities, openly discriminatory laws, and walled ghettos into which Palestinians are corralled.

Mohammed was a narcissist and egoist, determined that no one else should ever rival his glory and importance and so he deliberately set out to make it impossible for any Muslim to surpass him. It was very clever for Mohammed to call himself the seal of prophets and thus for the Koran to be the last word – cutting off any future changes, and making Mohammed’s elevated status as God’s messenger permanent. The Koran is asserted to be the verbatim word of God, the last word of God, the final revelation. One has to wonder why God had to make several attempts at his revelation in the first place, using several prophets. Why not just one prophet and one revelation, explaining everything forever? Why bother with a string of Jewish prophets, before inexplicable switching to an Arab prophet to be the most important prophet of all? Muslims believe that not Mohammed but Allah was the founder of Islam. Why did Allah not simply appear to the world and declare his message? Why use these bizarre intermediaries – these strange prophets? It makes no sense at all.

Since the time of Edison, American business innovation and entrepreneurship have given the United States a technological edge over geopolitical rivals and ensured U.S. military supremacy. Ford’s mass-produced trucks and cars proved critical in many battles of World War I in overcoming Germany’s advantageous access to European railroad transport. Over the course of the war, the United States manufactured more than 70 percent of all allied war material, with Ford Motor Company alone contributing more than the entire Italian national war effort. By the 1940s, the U.S. domestic oil industry, dominated by Rockefeller’s Standard Oil, constituted two-thirds of world oil production and was a crucial factor in closing Britain’s fuel deficit compared to Germany and Japan.

The United States of Ancient Persia While ancient Persia could be best understood as an absolute divine right monarchy, in many other respects it better conforms to the values we associate with modern liberal democracies than most of its rivals. The Persian Empire prohibited slavery, allowed women to own property, granted considerable local autonomy to conquered states, prioritized education and trade, and permitted an unprecedented level of religious freedom. In terms of basic human rights it is a far more accurate precursor to modern states than ancient Greece could ever have been.

The examples of Russia and Iran offer a more dismal prospect to the consequences of the loss of petro-power by key states via the advent of digital transformations of the energy world. A declining need for oil might lead to more, not less, geopolitical disorder. One possibility is that oil states that were previously powerful will not be willing to go quietly into the night as their oil power diminishes, but rather will assert themselves in different ways. In the case of Russia and Iran, to date, that assertiveness has included increased exercise of hard power through cyber and military means. Another outcome, perhaps even more troubling, would be if powerful oil producers felt the need to destroy the oil sectors of their rivals, in hopes of ensuring that their own oil assets are not the ones that get stranded.

Show her that you value her company and prefer being at home to being out. Esteem her in the presence of your friends and children. Praise and show admiration for her good acts; and if she ever does anything foolish, advise her patiently. Pray together at home and go to church; when you come back home, let each ask the other the meaning of the readings and the prayers. If you are overtaken by poverty, remember Peter and Paul, who were more honored than kings or rich men, though they spent their lives in hunger and thirst. Remind one another that nothing in life is to be feared, except offending God. If your marriage is like this, your perfection will rival the holiest of monks.

Here’s to falling for you even more than I already was. You’ve got a hold of something inside of me. I can’t wait until the next time I can kiss you.

PS. I lied when I said I would only be thinking about the meeting today. I couldn’t get my mind off last night. You’ve wrecked me for life.

You’re not spinning out of control and freaking out? His dick must have some personality-changing abilities.

He’s going to lose it because you’re going to look smoking hot. Two can play this game, sweetheart. And quite frankly, women are better at it.

It took you less than two minutes to flirt with another man. You won’t be sharing a dance with him or anyone else tonight. Not if I have anything to say about it.

I’ll try, but you make it awfully hard. And if another man approaches you… I don’t know what I’ll do.

Shit, women are hard work.

Do you know how bad I want you? I have half the nerve to stop the elevator and fuck you three ways to Sunday right here.

It’s careless of me, but I can’t seem to slow down with her. My heart races when I’m with her. I hope hers does too.

Because you promised to fuck me against that wall and I don’t like when people go back on their word.

That’s it, beauty. You’re a fucking queen.

I enjoyed my appetizer.” Can she get any better?

He claimed you? Holy shit on a stick. How do you get this and I get ‘Do you want to do it?’ It’s unfair.

Maybe great sex will have me forgetting about bad things. There’s only one way to find out.

Let me watch as I make love to you for the first time.

Come with me. Let’s come together the first time we make love.

Even with all the risk, he’s a part of me now and I know there’s no looking back. I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. And that right there just might be the start of my demise.

It’s okay to love something even though it’s not here now.

If I let you fall through my grasp because of something Aiden said, I’m sorry. What kind of man does that make me? “You deserve a partner who will stand up to him and fight for you. Hopefully, I’ll get there soon because I can’t see life without you.

My soul feels like it just cracked open and sprung a new life of its own. I slowly shake my head because I can’t believe how many years I’ve let her run to another guy for fear I would lose my best friend.

Dori’s worth dealing with Aiden’s wrath.

How else will I ever be able to show her I love her like to the depths of my soul love her? She’s my person. She always has been and I can’t—no, I won’t—let her go this time.

I’d give anything to hold her every night for the rest of my life.

If I can’t have her, at least I’ll be taking a billion dollars from the guy who can.

I’m not losing a billion dollars because Dori decided to get into bed with him.

The universe is not on my side when it comes to her. Maybe it’s for the best.

At least I don’t want to kill him anymore.

I wish I didn’t love her because this would be a lot easier if I didn’t.

Someone should tie me up and throw me in a cage so I can never get out.

Damn. You’re getting tighter.” He slows down and teases me. “Then fuck me harder and stretch me open. Show me how bad you want me.

She stole a piece of me and I’m wondering if she’ll give it back or keep it safe.

She could break me in half. All she has to do is walk away, and that’s a terrifying thought.

She’s beautiful in anything she has on—or off, for that matter.

At this rate, I’ll be drunk before she finishes her glass of wine.

Does she seriously think I’ll follow her and ‘fuck it out’ right now?

I used to think there was a never for us. But now I know there’s never been a never with you. It’s always been you. I want to be with you. So, would you want to take a chance with me and see if we can figure this out together?

I don’t know what’s worse. Him checking out every woman that enters the restaurant or a conversation that bores me to tears.

I clutch at my heart because he could crush, stomp on, and throw it away without a second thought. I know this because I’ve wanted him since I was ten, and he’s done it to me more than once.

My attraction to him is wickedly savage. I have so many naughty things I want to do with him.

Jesus, Dori. Those emerald eyes get me every time.

I’m playing with fire, but this man causes me to do things that take me down a slippery slope to heartache.

Dorothy Fisher’s my dream girl and still so fucking unbelievably gorgeous. Combine that with her touching me tonight and I thought I was going to lose it. I had to hold myself back because I didn’t want my dick to tear a hole in my pants. It took all my restraint to keep it down.

Bringing up my sexual interests is a dick comment, considering he’s the one who introduced me to the particular kink I like. Whatever. That’s irrelevant right now.

Jamison Stone may think he’s done his homework, but he doesn’t know all the tricks I have up my sleeve. One way or another, I will find out what he’s hiding. He can count on it.

Just look at him. That’s nothing but a billion-dollar, hot as molten lava god.

Oh, a woman who’s brave enough to go toe to toe with me. Even more beautiful.

I’m glad you didn’t get the memo. This dress is something else. I’m glad I didn’t miss seeing you in this.

Don’t worry, beauty. You have all night to touch me. Right now, I want to taste you.

We have sex once and you think you can share my food?

This woman confuses the fuck out of me.

My gaze drags the length of her body as the black barrier disappears. She’s wearing red lace lingerie. And red is now my favorite color. Her hair, her lingerie, her taste, her smell… It’s all red.

You’re just as stunning, it’s unfair how men just look fantastic while women have to work at it.” “You always embody beauty.

You said there was only one reason to date her. What’s that?” My body stiffens. “I love her. I always have.

I love it when ‘I don’t give a fuck about anything’ Dori comes out to play.

Don’t act like I don’t know who you are. Your mission in life is to make every woman you meet want you.

Playing this little game with her is fun. It’s like forbidden flirting, which makes me want her even more.

Nothing like baptism by fire, but shit’s about to hit the fan.

If hot caramel had a sound, his voice would be it. It’s smooth and screams take a bite out of me.

This should probably be a one-time-only thing.” “Not a chance in hell, beauty. This is just the beginning. It’s a good thing you got a nap today because I plan on keeping you up into all hours of the night.

You’re more beautiful right now than I’ve ever seen you before.

You better go slow or you’re going to rip me in half.” “I already planned on going slow. I want to feel every inch of you as you become mine.

I want to watch you as I claim you. Take all the time you need. Just let me watch.

I’m going to come.” He moans. “Make me come.

Goddamn. She’s a fucking dream.

This woman’s found a way into my heart and I’m shocked at what little time it took.

She’s Eve holding out the poisonous apple. I can’t resist her. I don’t want to resist her, but she’s always enticed me, only to leave me hanging when another guy comes along.

We’re both stealing air when we can because we’re going at it like we’re starving with need.

Jami, I’ve wanted this for so long. I didn’t know how you would react, but…” “But what?” “But I didn’t expect you to want me like I want you.” She blinks and waits for me to respond. I step back. “You didn’t expect me to want you. Are you kidding me? I’ve wanted this for as long as I can remember.

You kiss better than I imagined you would.

Why have I stopped myself from doing this before? It’s so much more than I could’ve hoped for.

I’m done with all the clothes between us. If she’ll let me, I’m ready to tear them off.

I want her more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.

There’s not one inch of her body that I don’t want to taste, but first her dress has to go.

I just got wrapped up in your eyes. You’re an exotic beauty and I can’t believe you’re standing before me.