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See, weak people wait. Say stupid shit like, if it’s meant to be, it will. If it’s mine, it’ll come to me. Other people, the ones from the bowels. From the dirt. From the tunnels. From the grime. From the underneath. The ones that know life is not that fair. Know there isn’t always something else out there with your name on it, and many people die worthless, unfulfilled, bored, sick, ugly, fat, miserable, insignificant.
“I’m boxy. With a pouch.” “Is this what beautiful people do?” “Who are you if you don’t know your flaws, right Roz? That’s what you say.” “You have a nice ass.” Noor shrugged. “It’s not a big ol’ pot-roast ass like yours.” “Yeah, well, you would look silly with a– Wait. What the fuck is a pot-roast ass?”
Lol
Dorian snuffled.
Is snuffling bout to be a thing throughout this book
“I just love this song,” she sang, catching the beat of Zhane’s Crush before echoing the lyrics. Zhane wanted to know if this man could be the one in her dreams. Zhane wanted to know if anyone else secretly loved somebody who didn’t know.
“I never knew that,” Noor huffed out her shock. Jesus, this man could be her professor, her lover, her chef, her comedian, her confidante, her motivator, her preacher.
She reminded Dorian of a dandelion. A pretty weed people plucked for fun to blow away the pieces of her and watch them float in the air, going whichever way the wind took them. While everyone around her remained rooted, she was that dandelion. Deemed valueless, yet everyone had to touch it.
“I know life goes on, but you moving faster than Mexican music, my nigga.
I’m using this quote
“I was…talking about food,” Noor snickered as his finger slid past her shell, massaging the tongue of her clam.
I don’t like this sentence
Something monstrous was building inside her, and she both craved and was frightened of it. “Take the dick, Noor,” her man uttered weakly behind her, and it was then she realized she’d been running. “Please.” Noor grit her teeth and arched her back, her cheek pressed against the sliding glass.
Noor’s body clinched as Dorian’s tongue thrashed against her slippery sensitivity, rolling over all 8,000 of her clit’s nerve endings or whatever they’d taught her in Health class. Noor wanted to cry. She wanted to lie down in traffic. Wanted to praise dance and thank Jesus for the life she’d just cursed. All while doing devilish things.
“Ooohhhh, Dorian…ohdaddy-ohdaddy-ohdaddy…it feels so goooooooddddd,” Noor clenched her teeth, smacked the floorboards, and felt tears roll down her nose as cum poured down her thigh.
I don’t like her calling him daddy. Em called him that
The storm was in full effect. God was throwing combat boots at the window.
These sayings lol
