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“I would let him ruin me as thoroughly and impressively as Elon Musk destroyed Twitter.”
“I would let him ruin me as thoroughly and impressively as Elon Musk destroyed Twitter.”
“Are you having fun?” I righted her in place before she toppled over like a goat. “Do you want me to get you some water? Advil? Divine intervention?”
“Are you having fun?” I righted her in place before she toppled over like a goat. “Do you want me to get you some water? Advil? Divine intervention?”
“My precious!” I growled in a Gollum voice, extending my fingers. He gave me the bored glare of a man used to fending off fangirls, before realizing I’d reached for the shortbread, not him.
“My precious!” I growled in a Gollum voice, extending my fingers. He gave me the bored glare of a man used to fending off fangirls, before realizing I’d reached for the shortbread, not him.
It smelled of her. A scent I recognized from the debutante ball. Of baby powder, roses in bloom, and a deranged woman.
I couldn’t imagine her with someone like Licht, who was the human answer to a radish.
My relief when we landed could solve a humanitarian crisis.
“In the twenty-nine years I’ve known you, I haven’t seen you lose your temper once. I’ve seen you lose it three times tonight alone.” Romeo flashed him a glare. “If you have something to say, say it, Sun.” Zach dusted his cashmere-clad shoulder. “A picture’s worth a thousand words, but your face only says one—pussy-whipped.”
Romeo seemed very fond of treating everyone around him like they had the depth of a Sims character.
Heck, he didn’t deserve any of my bodily fluids.
It was obvious he had enough baggage to fill an airport carousel, but I refused to humor him.
“You’re going to be a headache, aren’t you?” “A headache?” I cocked my head. “You kidnapped me, you psycho. I’m not gonna be a headache. I’m going to be, at the very least, a deadly brain tumor.”
“Not that. My body is a temple.” “And you litter this temple with three tons of sugar-laced, artificial-flavored junk food every third hour.”
Cages aren’t made of bars. They’re made of thoughts, expectations, and fear.
“Oral favors?” I scrunched my nose, noticing he spoke as if he’d just strolled out of the worn pages of a historical romance. That just so happened to be my least favorite genre. “And why do you talk like you fled the cast of Bridgerton?”
“Is your family terrible? I need to know whether to compliment my snack with a shot of something strong.” “Get yourself two shots. Actually, bring the whole bottle. We’ll share.”
Bruce turned to me. “Junior, son, what you are doing to this child is deplorable.” “So is what you’re doing to me,” I pointed out. “What am I doing to you?” “Existing.”
“Where is Dallas?” Good question. She’d escaped my mind. And possibly the premises.
He was hard everywhere. And I meant everywhere. Poor Morgan might’ve had his heart, but his cock, it appeared, was community property.
“While I’m not a fan of your personality, I’d pay good money to watch you sit and breathe,” he admitted, his voice roughening. “All you have to do is be alive for me to get a hard-on, so don’t worry your pretty head about underperforming.” Sadly, that was the sweetest thing he’d ever said to me.
“If you sit on my face and let me eat you out through your nightgown, I’ll buy you the Astor Opera House.”
I found my fiancé’s penis pretty attractive. Its only downfall was that it was attached to a prick.
His dick sprung out, heavy, pulsating, and engorged. That thing was huge. He wanted it in my mouth? I’d hardly be able to fit the thing into my suitcase. Maybe Morgan had broken things off because he’d sprained her jaw with it. Welcoming such a thing into your vagina seemed akin to giving birth to a full-size German shepherd.
What happened? Show us on the sex doll where she touched you.
This was a statement kiss. A kiss designed to inform the world I was now his property. Trespassers will be shot. Or worse.
In fact, you’re prime entertainment for me. Like a dozen circus clowns emerging from a tiny car.
Dallas Townsend reminded me of a phoenix, rising from the ashes of her poor decisions.
We were Paris-bound, and the excitement level sat somewhere between a three-day-long calculus marathon and a funeral.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Dallas to learn about the pleasures of sex through Tumblr and a dildo.
“What do you think you’re doing, Licht?” Madison flailed like an unearthed worm. “Getting back what’s mine.” I almost snorted. What a cliché. “Why didn’t you say so?” Romeo released him, yielded a blank check from his wallet, and slapped it onto Madison’s chest. “Here.” It cartwheeled to Madison’s loafers. “What’s that?” “The settlement I’ll be paying you after you sue me for breaking your nose.” “You didn’t break my—” Romeo planted his fist square in Madison’s face.
“You never asked for any of this, Dallas. I’m well aware. Every man in your life has failed you, including me.”
I applauded her talent for doing absolutely nothing, yet achieving so much.
“That something urgent came up. Family-related.” This wasn’t a fabrication. Something had come up. My blood pressure.
“I can see why you’re weathering the storm, bro. She’s sex on legs. How’s she maintaining that ass? Five hundred squats a day?” Try two sleeves of Oreos and a McFlurry.
“Because I said so.” She gasped theatrically. “Oh, why didn’t you say so? In that case, start walking. I’ll surely follow.”
“The only billionaires I like are fictional.”
Oliver pushed off the wall, advancing toward a genuine Picasso. He reached to touch it. Zach materialized at the speed of light, slapping his hand away. “What do you think you’re doing? It’s not a petting zoo.”
I’d shown little interest in world affairs since my dick found out my wife’s pussy was its favorite location.
You have more issues than National Geographic.
His smile disappeared faster than a complimentary breadstick basket in front of Dallas at the Olive Garden.
Fathers were supposed to protect their children. Not their family’s reputation.
“I’m going to the gym.” I would’ve followed him. Truly. But exercise equipment resembled distant cousins of the guillotine. Not my fault I’d entered this world with sky-high self-preservation instincts.
Senior studied my cleavage like he’d lost his car keys inside it. Beside him, Bruce looked ready to volunteer as tribute and dig for them.
How could I be so blind? I should’ve remembered what I learned from books. Beasts were never born—they were made.
Zach Sun: @OllievB, remember when Rom had his balls? Ollie vB: @ZachSun, yeah. They were beautiful. When he ran, they’d clank against one another. It sounded like wedding bells.
I’d long suspected my wife was what Gen Z ridiculously referred to as a bad-ass bitch.
Romeo spared me no real attention. To him, I’d become a fixture. A piece of furniture. A distraction. The realization gutted me. After all, there was no greater pain than unrequited love.
“Do you know me?” I scowled. “If Philanthropy met me in a dark alley, it would play dead, and I would still kill it just for the blood sport.”
