Windy City Heat Quotes

The day you and I met.” His words are soft against my skin as he speaks. “I was hiding in the women’s restroom because that was the same date my mom died. I was having a bad day, and I didn’t want anyone to see me like that. I’m always having a bad day on that date, but for the first time in a long time, while I was talking to you, I felt this spark of genuine joy that I couldn’t ignore. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have to fake it. So, it’s your fault, Kenny. You’re the reason I’ve been hooked from day one.”  My throat feels small. My nose and eyes prick with heat.  I’ve been a bargaining piece. A second-choice fiancée and even an unwanted employee, but I’ve never been someone’s joy.  I bury my face in his neck so he can’t see me. “Isaiah?” “Yeah?” “We got married on that date.” He curls into me, lips dusting the skin of my neck before placing a soft kiss there. “I know.

My intentions toward you are definitely…dirty.” “How dirty?” she whispered. Fiery need jolted straight to his groin. He leaned closer to speak right into her ear. “Very. I want to strip you naked and lick you all over. I want to taste you…everywhere. I want to feed you my cock and feel your teeth on me, and then I want to fuck you blind.” Her eyelids drooped, her mouth went soft, and more heat built between them as they stared at each other. His other hand found her knee and slipped over silky skin to the inside of her thigh beneath her coat. “That’s pretty dirty,” she agreed breathlessly.

Coming Home. There is a time of year in New York, in the fall, which comes suddenly, and doesn't last long, but is enough to make you love it for the rest of the year. If you go away then, you will always think of New York in golden hues, but if you stay you see the filth, the soot, the slush, and later, live in the stench and torrid heat of a New York summer. But in the fall it becomes beautiful, it is red and gold and brown, it's lear and windy and crisp, the streets look cleaner, people step as though walking to a march, the smell of hot chestnuts is everywhere...It's the time of year I love best, and if there is a warm spot in my heart for New York it is for the city at precisely that time of year. And that spell it weaves for two, or three, or four weeks in the late autumn.

The fire started inside a barn. It was tiny at first, a glowing dot, some wisps of white smoke. But then flames reached up. They grabbed hold of a pile of hay. Crackle! Pop! And then, Boom! Towers of flame shot up, higher, higher, punching through the roof, reaching for the sky. Voices screamed out. “Fire! Fire! Fire!” Alarm bells clanged. Firefighters readied their horses and raced their pumpers through the streets. But it was too late. The flames blasted a shower of fiery sparks into the windy sky. Like a swarm of flaming wasps, they flew through the air, starting fires wherever they landed. Shops and homes erupted in flames. Warehouses exploded. Mansions burned. Crowds of panicked people fled their houses and rushed through the streets and along the wooden sidewalks. They screamed and pushed and knocked one another down, desperate to get away from the choking smoke and broiling flames. But there was no escape. The winds blew harder. Flames shot hundreds of feet in the air, spreading across miles and miles. And in the middle of it all was eleven-year-old Oscar Starling. Oscar had never felt so terrified, not even two years ago, when a killer blizzard hit his family’s Minnesota farm. He was trapped inside a burning house, fighting for his life. He’d made it down the stairs, desperate to escape. And then, Crash! A ball of fire and cinders crashed through the window, and the house exploded in flames. And suddenly, Oscar was in the fire’s ferocious grip. The flames clawed at him, seared him, threw him to the ground. Smoke gushed up his nose and into his mouth. But the worst was the blistering heat, the feeling of being roasted alive. Was this the end? Oscar had never wanted to come to this city. And now he was sure he was going to die here.

Indy Daily update—this is a few days late, but I gotta tell you something. I dry-humped your brother’s leg like a dog in heat.  Stevie, why aren’t you answering? AM I BLOCKED?! Stevie Renee Shay! You were the one who wanted me to live with him! Kidding. This isn’t your fault. I LOVE YOU!! Are you mad at me?

He’s strikingly handsome when he smiles, but then again, Isaiah Rhodes is always smiling, even when he doesn’t want to. With that, he rounds my body to head towards the exit, but before he goes, he turns, putting his chest to my back. I can sense his domineering height. Can feel his overwhelming body heat.  Isaiah’s breath tickles the back of my neck, and every nerve in my body comes to life, including the ones between my legs that I wasn’t sure worked. “Just think of this as one big game.” His tone is low and deep when he leans down to my ear and whispers, “C’mon wife. Play along.

It starts slow, soft, and sweet. Our mouths take their time exploring one another as we hide under the sheets in his bedroom. He tenderly cups my face, holding me to him, but in no time at all, it heats, kisses turning long and deep. I hum in approval when his tongue touches mine, sweeping in and taking control.  His hands are gentle as they touch me, but his mouth...his mouth takes.  “I have fucking dreamed about this,” he pants against my lips. “About kissing you. About touching you. I don’t want it to stop.”  So I don’t let it.

Jasper’s gaze dropped to Sylvie’s lips, launching her pulse to a painful speed. But just as quickly, he released her and stood, for Kirstin bustled into the room to stoke the fire. Her face flushed with the heat of a summer’s day, Sylvie stood and thanked Jasper once more while the maid knelt at the hearth.