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“How good are you at giving head?”
“I’ve never had any complaints.”
“Show me.”
But I’ll tell you one thing—I’m never fucking desperate for pussy. Ever. I’m not the begging kind. So if she wants to leave, I won’t stop her.
“You’re terrible at giving oral, you couldn’t find my clit if it knocked you on the nose, and your penis is crooked, and not in a good way. It felt more like trying to wrangle a bent pencil in my vagina than getting pounded by a beefy salami.”
“I made you come every goddamn time.”
“It’s called faking i...
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Probably because I’m so fucking lost, I don’t even know what I need in my life to be happy—but let’s not get into that.
“Come in. I won’t bite . . . at least not yet.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“If that’s some sexual innuendo, I’m going to tell you right now, I don’t even like to be bitten when having sex. I think it’s weird, also . . . if you think I’m going to be some concubine for you, you better think of something else.”
“You clearly haven’t been bitten by the right person. That much is true when we think ...
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“What exactly do you want me to do for you? If you say sexual favors, the answer is no. I’d rather bury my head in the jail toilet bowl than get within inches of your crotch.”
“Nice visual, but like I said, I could do better. Your pussy is not worth my time.”
“I have a great pussy,” she defends. “You’re not worth...
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Or the bright green of her eyes that seemed to cut to my very core. A color so green that I thought about them the moment I woke up this morning.
“he never came inside me. I wouldn’t let him. He was always covered.” Interesting.
“I’m anything but a prince. If you want to address me, you can address me as king . . . or daddy. Never prince.”
“Oh, okay, let me just go around calling you daddy. Sure, that’s going to happen. You’re delusional.”
“Are you taking me to your dungeon for mouthing off? Because any torture you might have in mind will never match having to sit through a night of Matt trying to figure out where my clit was.” That pauses me.
“If there is one thing I can guarantee, it’s that you’re not here as a fuck toy. I have no interest in taking your clothes off, so whatever reputation you think I have, it doesn’t apply to you.”
“Leave it to men to make a woman clean up the mess they created.”
Instead, I spent forty-two dollars and ninety-two cents on pickles at the general store, as well as half an hour in the pickle section, racking my brain to remember what the godforsaken jar that she dropped looked like.
“You got me pickles?”
See, this is why I shouldn’t do nice things because it confuses everyone . . . even me.
“Either way, I didn’t know what kind, so I just got one of each.”
“Can you not make a big deal out of this?” “But this is nice. You’re not nice to me or my family, so why would you do this?”
“I don’t know, you got me,”
“What is a wonky nipple?” Maggie asks. “You know, like if one is a hamburger and the other is a hot dog.” “What?”
“Can you facetune a nipple?” “I think you can facetune anything at this point. Technology is freaky,”
Hayes walks into the bedroom from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a low-slung towel around his waist. Dear. Mother. Of. God.
Damn him. Damn him and his sexy, mouthwatering body. And damn that knowing smirk.
“You know, you’re not as bad as you seem.” “Should I take that as a compliment?”
“Probably. I don’t hand them out often.”
“You’re late,” I say.
“The commute was a real bitch.” “It’s fifteen minutes.” “A stressful fifteen minutes at that, can’t even fit in a solid playlist.”
Perhaps I’m trying to save myself by saving her. I shouldn’t even be near her. All fucking facts.
“I’d let you do anything, Hattie.”
“Why?”
I’m fucking ...
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You push me away, but still stay close. You don’t take when other people will . . . and that makes me realize you’re not here to use me, especially since you know you could leave any moment you want, and I won’t hold it against you.”
“You’re making it really hard not to like you.”
I like her. I’ll admit it, I like Hattie Rowley when I know damn well I shouldn’t.
She sparked some light into my life.
“You paint yourself in a light that’s unflattering,”
“Maybe you shouldn’t anymore, because I’m not seeing the man you try to be. I see someone different.”
“You’re seeing a lie.”
Fuck, don’t kiss me, Hattie. Please don’t fucking kiss me. I won’t be able to stop you.
I won’t be able to stop myself.
“I think you’re telling me a lie, and I’m seeing the truth.”
Motherfucker, I want this. I want those lips. I want this girl. I want every goddamn thing about her.

