Ty God Quotes

<…>When I was done speaking I felt his body had gone still again, stone still. And silent. Then he asked quietly, "Nightmare?" "Nightmare," I replied firmly. Ty didn't move. By a miracle, I held it together. Then he moved but it was to rest his chin on my shoulder and I closed my eyes because I needed him to go, go, go so I could fall apart again on my own. Then he said, "Your nightmare, mama, was my dream." My heart clenched. He kept going. "Never had a home until you gave me one." My breath started sticking. "Never had anyone give to me the way you gave to me." My breath stopped sticking and clogged. "Never thought of findin' a woman who I wanted to have my baby." Oh God. "Never had light in my life, never, not once, I lived wild but I didn't burn bright until you shined your light on me." Oh God. "Whacked, fuckin' insane, but, at night, you curled in front of me, didn't mind I did that time that wasn't mine 'cause it meant I walked out to you." He had to stop. He had to. He didn't. "Your nightmare," he whispered, turned his head and against my neck he finished, "my dream."<…>

Ty laughed, a carefree, boyish sound, and glanced to his side, distracted by what he saw. “You moved the rug.” “I kitty-cornered it.” “Why would you do that?” Ty asked, aghast. “To see you lose your shit when you got home.” Zane leaned closer, grinning evilly. “There are other things out of order too. Books not alphabetized. Coffee mug handles facing different directions.” He lowered his voice to a whisper as Ty’s eyes widened in horror. “The closet isn’t color coded.” “You’re just watching the world burn, huh?” Zane laughed. “God I missed you.” Ty said in a rush of breath.

Evening,” Zane greeted quietly, voice still dark with sleep. He yawned and ran his hand through his hair. The short curls were riotous. “I’m hungry.” “Ugh,” Ty groaned sleepily. “God, you’re worse than a date,” he muttered. “I have to feed you, too?

I had a thought." "God help us," Ty said under his breath.

Hello? This is Clary Fairchild.” “Clary? It’s me, Emma.” “Oh, Emma, hi! I haven’t heard from you in ages. My mom says thanks for the wedding flowers, by the way. She wanted to send a note but Luke whisked her away on a honeymoon to Tahiti.” “Tahiti sounds nice.” “It probably is — Jace, what are you doing with that thing? There is no way it’ll fit.” “Is this a bad time?” “What? No! Jace is trying to drag a trebuchet into the training room. Alec, stop helping him.” “What’s a trebuchet?” “It’s a huge catapult.” “What are they going to use it for?” “I have no idea. Alec, you’re enabling! You’re an enabler!” “Maybe it is a bad time.” “I doubt there’ll be a better one. Is something wrong? Is there anything I can do?” “I think we have your cat.” “What?” “Your cat. Big fuzzy Blue Persian? Always looks angry? Julian says it’s your cat. He says he saw it at the New York Institute. Well, saw him. It’s a boy cat.” “Church? You have Church? But I thought — well, we knew he was gone. We thought Brother Zachariah took him. Isabelle was annoyed, but they seemed to know each other. I’ve never seen Church actually likeanyone like that.” “I don’t know if he likes anyone here. He bit Julian twice. Oh, wait. Julian says he likes Ty. He’s asleep on Ty’s bed.” “How did you wind up with him?” “Someone rang our front doorbell. Diana, she’s our tutor, went down to see what it was. Church was in a cage on the front step with a note tied to it. It said For Emma. This is Church, a longtime friend of the Carstairs. Take care of this cat and he will take care of you. —J.” “Brother Zachariah left you a cat.” “But I don’t even really know him. And he’s not a Silent Brother any more.” “You may not know him, but he clearly knows you.” “What do you think the J stands for?” “His real name. Look, Emma, if he wants you to have Church, and you want Church, you should keep him.” “Are you sure? The Lightwoods —“ ‘They’re both standing here nodding. Well, Alec is partially trapped under a trebuchet, but he seems to be nodding.” “Jules says we’d like to keep him. We used to have a cat named Oscar, but he died, and, well, Church seems to be good for Ty’s nightmares.” “Oh, honey. I think, really, he’s Brother Zachariah’s cat. And if he wants you to have him, then you should.” “Why does Brother Zachariah want to protect me? It’s like he knows me, but I don’t know why he knows me.” “I don’t exactly know … But I know Tessa. She’s his — well, girlfriend seems not the right word for it. They’ve known each other a long, long time. I have a feeling they’re both watching over you.” “That’s good. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.” “Emma — oh my God. The trebuchet just crashed through the floor. I have to go. Call me later.” “But we can keep the cat?” “You can keep the cat.

Listen up, ’cause I’m only gonna say this once,” Ty muttered as they walked to their gate. “I don’t talk when I fly. I sleep. And I don’t listen when I eat, understand? I don’t wanna be buddies. I don’t wanna chat,” he said with a sarcastic lilt to the word. “I don’t wanna know about your childhood or how your momma whipped you with a rubber glove or how much therapy you had to go through ’cause you flunked out of preschool. I don’t wanna hear about how you want to be Director someday or how many collars you got chasin’ those Internet freaks or how proud you are of your bowel movements. I don’t wanna go shopping at Barney’s with you, and I’m not gonna help you pick out your ties to match your socks and, I swear to God, if you get me shot, I’ll kill you.

Mallory," he said, sounding raw and staggered and touched beyond words. "God, I was so stupid. So slow. I didn't know what to do with you. I tried to keep my distance but my world doesn't work without you in it." -Ty to Mallory

Kelly pulled out a pair of handcuffs and thrust them at Park. “Why the hell do you have those?” Ty asked. Kelly shrugged and grinned. “They’re Nick’s.” “Oh God, no,” Ty blurted covering his eyes. Nick laughed. He rolled over and pushed himself to his hands and knees, but he remained there, either unable or unwilling to stand. He glanced up at Ty and Zane. “He likes the uniform, too.” “No no no!” Ty cried.

You’re . . . you’re going back to the Marines?” Alston stuttered. “I thought SOCOM was defunct.” “It’s MARSOC now,” Ty mumbled. ”But that’s special operations. You don’t have a choice?” “No. I don’t.” He studied the orders. “I report in forty-eight hours. Immediate deployment.” Zane stood. His hands shook as he gripped the edge of the desk. Ty looked up, seeking Zane out. Zane could see it in Ty’s eyes. There was no choice. No way to wriggle out of it. No way for anyone to save him. “Oh God, Ty,” Zane whispered. Ty stared at him for a moment longer as the others broke into outraged babbling. Then Ty shook himself. He tossed the packet of orders onto the desk and stalked over to Zane. He grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him. The room spun to a halt. The babble ground to a stunned hush. Ty’s hands moved to the small of his back and he held him tight, bending him just enough for Zane to have to wrap his arms around him to keep from falling. He kissed him again. In front of their coworkers. In front of King and Country and anyone who would watch. It was the first purely honest kiss they’d ever shared. And it was a kiss good-bye.

Grady and Preston were both after the same mark in Paris a few years ago,” Julian said to Zane. “They met during what I hear was a drunken, debauched night of… selling antiques. That’s how I knew Ty had been there. I never saw him.” “Such unnecessary details,” Preston murmured. “Ty, seriously,” Zane grunted. “How is this my fault?” Ty asked in exasperation. “Do you have a history with every guy with a gun in the Northern hemisphere?” “Oh, like you don’t have some winners back there you hope we never run into. Let’s head to Miami and see what comes out of the woodwork.” “Ty.” “I like guys with guns!” “Oh my God,” Julian muttered as he rubbed at his eyes.

It’s not about managing, it’s about taste. Your sandwiches taste better.” Ty started cracking up. “Oh my fucking God, are you spoiled. It’s about throwing some meat, cheese, and mayo between two pieces of bread. The taste doesn’t change whether it’s me or you slapping it together.

<…>"No, Ty, you drew it when one second you had your tongue in my mouth, your hands on me and me on my back in your bed and swear to God, swear to God, that was all you had to do, I was this close," she lifted a hand and held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart, "to climax just with that and the next second you took it all away from me. All of it and you fucking know exactly what I'm talking about because the next second I was standing on my feet, you were two feet away but you might as well still have been in fucking California and then I watched you shut down."<…>

Mallory, I lo—" "Wait!" This was from Amy, and she looked at Mallory. "I'm sorry, but don't you think you should tell him about the car before he finishes that sentence?" "No," Mallory said, giving Amy the evil eye. She wanted the rest of Ty's sentence, dammit! Ty frowned. "What's wrong with the Shelby?" "Nothing," Mallory said quickly. "Nothing," Amy agreed. "Except for the dinged door where she parked too close to the mailbox." "Oh my God," Mallory said to her. "What are you, the car police?" "The classic car police," Amy said smugly. "You parked the Shelby on the street?" Ty asked Mallory incredulously. She went brows-up. "Okay," he said, lifting his hands. "It's okay. Never mind about the car.

So, he made this report to me. Now, make no mistake, Ty, I take my work seriously but I gotta admit, he gave this report, I lost my pen. Swear to God, don’t know where I put that fucker.

God, I love it when you're cranky like this. Promise to still be pissed when I get home, okay?" (Ty) "I don't think that's going to be a problem" (Zane)

Before I could turn to look up, a voice boomed from the heavens: "What the heck is going on down there?

Her entire body quivered. "What is it about me that you're attracted to?" "For starters, the sexy underwear you put on beneath your clothes." "You've only seen my underwear once." "Twice," he said. "I looked down your top at the pier." "You did not." "Pink-and-white polka-dot bra." "Oh my God." "That's what I was thinking." -Mallory and Ty

Oh god, what now? Are you in jail? Being held by the IRA? Stuck on a reef in the Caribbean?" "Wow," Kelly said. "That's uncalled for." Zane laughed. "I thought being engaged to Ty gave me some extra snark privileges.

A stronghold is a mind-set impregnated with hopelessness that causes the believer to accept as unchangeable something that he/she knows is contrary to the will of God. P. 24

Hey,” Nick grunted. “Marriage is just a word for some people, but for others it’s a fucking sentence, okay?” Zane was holding his side. “Oh my God, marriage puns! Oh my God...” Nick was trying not to grin, but he finally couldn’t help himself. “Once we established I was the victim, then we had to find a girl with a ring on her finger to figure out which one I’d fucking married.” Ty leaned against Zane’s arm, laughing so hard he could no longer sit up straight. “The look on his face!” “He made a marriage pun,” Zane gasped.

Ty grabbed my phone and threatened to tell Otter that I liked being spanked during sex. This proceeded to lead up on a long tangent where I had to have him explain to me how he knows about stuff like people getting spanked during sex. He said he might have heard it mentioned while watching MSNBC. I told him he was grounded from watching the news channels for a week. That's where this whole sidebar should have ended, but then I was forced to explain S & M and bondage to my little brother, who was persistent on the topic, and who kept staring at me with mounting horror when I finally /did/ explain, and I realized I had maybe gone too far, and we had to spend the next five minutes swearing to God that I had never nor would I ever attempt to do anything like that. He might now be the only nine-year-old who has heard the terms "cock ring" and "fisting". My parenting skills are unparalleled.

Jakie niebo? Jaki Bóg?! Ty nie widzisz, co się dzieje? Ty nie widzisz, że Boga już dawno tu nie ma? A jeżeli nawet jest – staruszek zniżył głos – to on jest po ich stronie.

How the fuck was he supposed to function in the fucking real world if he couldn’t even break into his own god damn house?

Zane rolled his eyes. "At least I think with my head and not with my ass," he muttered as he buttoned his jeans and zipped up. "Your ass is more fun to look at," Ty shot back from under the pillow. Stopping in place, Zane boggled at the pillow. "You did not just say you've looked at my ass." Dear God. The tease of that was fucking inflammatory. He didn't need this kind of torture. "You show it often enough," Ty countered in a sly tone, still muffled. "You don't mean that literally," Zane muttered as he started stacking folders on the table, trying to make room for food. []"I mean everything I say literally.Literally," he said with wry emphasis.

So while I drove my little and planned his fantasy night of how I was going to give Otter the key to my soul (his words, not mine), I silently panicked and wrote lines of bad poetry. Normally, I am quite adept at writing poems and lyrics to songs I'l never sing, but this stuff was just atrocious. For example: I love you You love me Thank God for that I'm so happy And Ty's personal favorite (which he helped me on): Otter! Otter! Otter! Don't lead cows to slaughter I love you and I know I should've told you soon-a But you didn't buy the dolphin-safe tuna! TY asked me if I got the hidden message in his poem. I told him it was loud and clear.

If I fuck you, you’ll think all your prayers have been answered. I’ll make you see god, Middleton. I’ll make you think I am god.” Ty Henderson - Act Your Age

Zane’s tongue flicked over the head of his cock, and Ty bit his lip against a moan. “Oh God. You’re either having sex or being shot at, aren’t you?” Deuce asked with dread. “Why do you answer the phone?” “Got

When I was done speaking I felt his body had gone still again, stone still. And silent. Then he asked quietly, "Nightmare?" "Nightmare," I replied firmly. Ty didn't move. By a miracle, I held it together. Then he moved but it was to rest his chin on my shoulder and I closed my eyes because I needed him to go, go, go so I could fall apart again on my own. Then he said, "Your nightmare, mama, was my dream." My heart clenched. He kept going. "Never had a home until you gave me one." My breath started sticking. "Never had anyone give to me the way you gave to me." My breath stopped sticking and clogged. "Never thought of findin' a woman who I wanted to have my baby." Oh God. "Never had light in my life, never, not once, I lived wild but I didn't burn bright until you shined your light on me." Oh God. "Whacked, fuckin' insane, but, at night, you curled in front of me, didn't mind I did that time that wasn't mine 'cause it meant I walked out to you." He had to stop. He had to. He didn't. "Your nightmare," he whispered, turned his head and against my neck he finished, "my dream.

En god teolog lär som följer. Folket måste tyglas med svärdets yttre makt, då det handlar illa, såsom Paulus lär i Rom. 13. Människors samveten får emellertid inte snärjas med falska lagar, så att de plågas med synder, där Gud inte velat, att tal skall vara om synd. Ty samvetena bindes endast av Guds bud.

Jag saknar tro och kan därför aldrig bli någon lycklig människa, ty en lycklig människa skall aldrig behöva frukta att hennes liv är ett meningslöst irrande mot den vissa döden. Jag har varken ärvt en god eller fast punkt på jorden varifrån jag skulle kunna tilldraga mig en guds uppmärksamhet. Jag har heller inte ärvt skeptikerns väl dolda raseri eller ateistens brinnande oskuld. Jag vågar därför inte kasta sten på henne som tror på ting, på vilka jag tvivlar eller på honom som dyrkar ett tvivel, som vore inte även det omgivet av mörker. Den stenen skulle träffa mig själv, ty om en sak är jag fast övertygad: att människans behov av tröst är omättligt.

Character, personality, and behavior patterns are shaped by what we believe.

Just so you know, Duane Martinez came in two days ago to make a belated report that he was assaulted by one Tyrell Walker.” Fuck. “You’re shittin’ me,” Ty rumbled. “No, a fuckin’ drug dealer pimp walks into the fuckin’ police station lookin ’ like the weasel he is but a healthy one and he does it to report a fuckin’ assault.” Then Ty heard a deep chuckle. Ty was not amused. Peña kept talking. “Seein’ as I got an interest in Martinez and all his dirty deeds, he was flagged and sent to me. So, he made this report to me. Now, make no mistake, Ty, I take my work seriously, but I gotta admit, he gave this report, I lost my pen. Swear to God, don’t know where I put that fucker.

He was the old breed of Filipino, almost extinct, who required that he deserve what he received; who would feel guilt, not only shame or embarrassment; who accounted for each day in the office and observed public trust as if it were a word of God. But even God was nowhere. The new theology proclaimed him dead. Long live Man! Love live Me!

I have had so many Dwellings, Nat, that I know these Streets as well as a strowling Beggar: I was born in this Nest of Death and Contagion and now, as they say, I have learned to feather it. When first I was with Sir Chris. I found lodgings in Phenix Street off Hogg Lane, close by St Giles and Tottenham Fields, and then in later times I was lodged at the corner of Queen Street and Thames Street, next to the Blew Posts in Cheapside. (It is still there, said Nat stirring up from his Seat, I have passed it!) In the time before the Fire, Nat, most of the buildings in London were made of timber and plaister, and stones were so cheap that a man might have a cart-load of them for six-pence or seven-pence; but now, like the Aegyptians, we are all for Stone. (And Nat broke in, I am for Stone!) The common sort of People gawp at the prodigious Rate of Building and exclaim to each other London is now another City or that House was not there Yesterday or the Situacion of the Streets is quite Changd (I contemn them when they say such things! Nat adds). But this Capital City of the World of Affliction is still the Capitol of Darknesse, or the Dungeon of Man's Desires: still in the Centre are no proper Streets nor Houses but a Wilderness of dirty rotten Sheds, allways tumbling or takeing Fire, with winding crooked passages, lakes of Mire and rills of stinking Mud, as befits the smokey grove of Moloch. (I have heard of that Gentleman, says Nat all a quiver). It is true that in what we call the Out-parts there are numberless ranges of new Buildings: in my old Black-Eagle Street, Nat, tenements have been rais'd and where my Mother and Father stared without understanding at their Destroyer (Death! he cryed) new-built Chambers swarm with life. But what a Chaos and Confusion is there: meer fields of Grass give way to crooked Passages and quiet Lanes to smoking Factors, and these new Houses, commonly built by the London workmen, are often burning and frequently tumbling down (I saw one, says he, I saw one tumbling!). Thus London grows more Monstrous, Straggling and out of all Shape: in this Hive of Noise and Ignorance, Nat, we are tyed to the World as to a sensible Carcasse and as we cross the stinking Body we call out What News? or What's a clock? And thus do I pass my Days a stranger to mankind. I'll not be a Stander-by, but you will not see me pass among them in the World. (You will disquiet your self, Master, says Nat coming towards me). And what a World is it, of Tricking and Bartering, Buying and Selling, Borrowing and Lending, Paying and Receiving; when I walk among the Piss and Sir-reverence of the Streets I hear, Money makes the old Wife trot, Money makes the Mare to go (and Nat adds, What Words won't do, Gold will). What is their God but shineing Dirt and to sing its Devotions come the Westminster-Hall-whores, the Charing-cross whores, the Whitehall whores, the Channel-row whores, the Strand whores, the Fleet Street whores, the Temple-bar whores; and they are followed in the same Catch by the Riband weavers, the Silver-lace makers, the Upholsterers, the Cabinet-makers, Watermen, Carmen, Porters, Plaisterers, Lightemen, Footmen, Shopkeepers, Journey-men... and my Voice grew faint through the Curtain of my Pain.

Eleven southern states seceded to protect and expand an African American slave labor system. Unwilling to accept the results of a fair, democratic election, they illegally seized U.S. territory, violently. Together, they formed a new 'Confederacy,' in contravention of the U.S. Constitution. Then West Point graduates like Robert E. Lee resigned their commissions, abrogating an oath sworn to God to defend the United States. During the bloodiest war in American history, Lee and his comrades killed more U.S. Army soldiers than any other enemy, ever. And they did it for the worst reason possible; to create a nation dedicated to exploit enslaved men, women, and children, forever.

God. This face, you show me everything." - Ty, Chapter Five

Já mířím na srdce, ty jenom na ústa, oba už nesmíme zůstati živi, síla už slábne a bolest vyrůstá, soudcuj nám, Bože spravedlivý!

Zane took a few careful steps toward Ty before jogging to him and grabbing him. Ty clutched to him, digging his fingers in his hair. “I swear to God, I’m never letting you leave my sight again,” he hissed in Zane’s ear. Zane buried his face in Ty’s neck. “I’m good with that.

The gods to whom divine honors must be rendered are twelve in number, and their names are Odin, Thor, Balder, Ty, Brage, Heimdal, Hod, Vidar, Vale, Ull, Forsete, Loke.

The place they were going - Ty had the address - was on Gill Street, Magnus had explained, in Limehouse. "Used to be a terrible neighborhood," he said. "Full of opium dens and gambling houses. God, it was fun back then." Mark had looked immediately panicked. "Don't worry," Magnus had added. "It's very dull now. All fancy condos and gastropubs. Very safe.

Oh God, Ty,” Zane whispered. Ty

Oh my God,” Zane gasped finally. He tightened his arms around Ty, clutching at his uniform. “I missed you,” Ty whispered in his ear. His hands gripped at Zane’s hair, and he stood on the toes of his boots so they could cling tighter to each other. The

Ty had promised to keep fucking him, and God, was he ever. Ty

He shuddered and clutched at the rug as he thrust his hips toward Ty’s sinful mouth. “Oh God, please,” he whispered. “Baby, please.” He

Zane lifted his legs enough to wrap them around Ty again, changing the angle of Ty’s thrusts, and he gave a long, forlorn cry as Ty hit his prostate. “Oh, God baby, so, so good.” Ty

Ty’s hands gripped Zane’s waist, and he called out, encouraging his lover for more. He fell back again, hands sliding to Zane’s hips. He loved to feel the supple movements of Zane’s hips when they were fucking. Zane had never ridden him before, but they would definitely be doing this again. “God,

Ty . . . Ty, oh fucking God, please,” he whimpered, his entire body shaking. “Please . . .” Ty

Zane’s shout of pleasure and pain echoed off the walls. His gasps were caught between Ty’s lips, and it was a near-impossible struggle to stay still as Ty rocked into him, to keep his hips at that perfect angle, one leg straight between Ty’s knees and one drawn up to his chest as Ty took him from above. He needed to move, to ease the ache of invasion, to intensify the brutal pressure. God, he loved it, Ty forcing his way in, laying claim to Zane’s body. He

Han väckte en samvetsfråga som förblivit obesvarad. Om man utför en så kallad god handling av dolda motiv hur bör den då taxeras enligt godhetsprinciperna? Om en människa försöker pådyvla mig godhet blir jag ärligt förbannad och utför omedelbart en serie bushandlingar som korrigerar misstaget. Ty det är omänskliga godhetskravet låser de spontana krafterna och förvandlar levande impulser till bräkande menlösheter.

Tamil has three genders, broadly based on sex and animacy: the first class includes male humans and gods, the second female humans and goddesses, while the third includes inanimate objects.

The statue serves as an act of defiance. The sculptor knew exactly what he was doing. Ezekiel wanted to portray an “accurate” history of the loyal, happy slave, not the “lies” told through books like Uncle Tom’s Cabin, which showed the brutality of slavery. Instead, the artist said the monument represents the South, which fought “for a constitutional right, and not to uphold slavery.”54 Ezekiel created a monument to white supremacy at the final resting place for soldiers who fought and died to create a more just society, including African American soldiers. Inscribed on the monument is the Latin phrase “Victrix causa diis placuit sed victa Catoni,” by the Roman poet Lucan. The English translation reads, “The victorious cause pleased the gods, but the conquered cause pleased Cato.” My Roman history is weak, but the historian Jamie Malanowski broke down the meaning: You have to know your Latin history to know they’re talking about the Roman Civil War, that the dictator Julius Caesar won, and that Cato was pleased with the republicans’ sacrifice. With that background in mind the inscription is a ‘fuck you’ to the Union. It’s that sneaky little Latin phrase essentially saying ‘we were right and you were wrong, and we’ll always be right and you’ll always be wrong.’55

Of course, it was me,” Ty said brightly. “As if I was going to let you keep us out of an epic battle.” “With the fucking Christians,” UnnúlfR—blond, beautiful, and a bit of a dick—added.

I stood straight and calm, though every part of me wanted to blast the crap out of the room. No one moved, no one spoke. I barely breathed. I didn’t know how much time had passed when Ty finally broke the silence. “If we’re demigods and you are demigods, which gods are our grandparents?” Tyde asked, snapping me out of my funk. Why hadn’t it occurred to me to ask that? My parents were the children of gods. All Mer were thought of as children of Poseidon in some respects, but this was different. “Well, your father’s father is Apollo,” Mom said, “And my father is… Zeus.” Whoa, that was big. Zeus was our grandfather. How does someone wrap their mind around that? “So our grandfathers are Apollo and Zeus, but aren’t they related? Wouldn’t that make you and Dad…” Ty couldn’t finish that thought and I was grateful. I was now grossed out. I couldn’t do the math on that messed up family tree. Yuck. “It doesn’t really work that way with the gods,” Mom said, catching on to what Ty was hinting at. “They are so ancient that their blood, while it will carry power, doesn’t carry much else in terms of genealogy. Our DNA comes mostly from our mortal parents. Our powers come from our godly parents but that’s it. It’s complicated, but your father and I are not related. So if you were worried… stop. You’re not the product of kissing cousins

Wszyskto się zmienia, kiedy ty się zmieniasz

To, że ktoś podąża inną ścieżką niż ty, nie znaczy jeszcze, że się zgubił

Home,” Zane said slowly, smiling a little at Ty’s playful words. “To West by-God Virginia? And you want me to just… tag along?” “Yes,” Ty answered with a curt nod. That was exactly what he wanted. If Zane could survive a trip to West Virginia to meet the Gradys, he could live through anything. Like a cockroach.

Mouth falling open, Tyler’s pleasure blasted through him, becoming more blissed out as Tim’s stamina seemed to increase, slapping against him and hitting him just right inside, hard and fast. “Yes,” he huffed. “Yes, fuck yes don’t stop. Please. Please...” Tim faltered a moment, then kept fucking. “God Ty, this isn’t gonna last long. You turn me on so much.” “Just keep going like that, and I won’t last long either.