More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
For those who think they’re better off alone, that they’re not worthy of the love they crave, because they’ve dealt with the pain of people leaving. The power to let them win or rise above it with your head held high is yours and yours alone. The only person who needs to think you’re worth it is you.
RATHER BE FUCKING MY DRAGON DILDO
And plus, two days ago she texted and asked what a respectable seventy-four-year-old woman might wear at midnight if she wanted to egg someone’s car and not get caught.”
HUMAN COCK: 1, DRAGON COCK: 0
“If you were my bride, I’d fuck you like you were my lifeline. I’d eat your pussy like it was my last meal, and I’d drive myself inside you over and over again, like you were the only place I’d find my salvation.”
“Ask me. Beg me to let you come on my cock. Make it pretty, honey. Say please.”
One thing about me? I’m gonna serenade my cat every chance I get so he knows how much I love him. “Silly kitty, chunky kitty, I kiss your tiny nose. Fluffy kitty, handsome kitty, I love your extra toes.”
I forgot to slap a hand over my junk. I know what you’re thinking: Jaxon, why would you have to slap a hand over your junk? Uh, because my cat likes to attack my balls like they’re his favorite dangly toys.
I could’ve happily lived the rest of my life walking around in a dazed bliss, the memory of that one night, Jaxon, his filthy mouth, and a cock that blew my dragon dildo out of the water, nothing more than exactly that: a memory.
That aggressive attitude problem led to the most mind-blowing sex I’ve ever had. Sometimes I swear I can still feel his fingers wrapped around my hips. As it is, I’m still trying to pretend the hollow feeling left in my vagina after Jaxon went and carved out a home for his cock for one night has always been there.
Cara changed the group chat name to Penis Cozies.
Cara changed the group chat name to Cock Suckers.
Cara changed the group chat name to Coochie Gang: The Chamber of Secrets.
“You can call me Daddy, honey. My only stipulation is that I’m buried eight inches inside you while you do it.”
Pausing at the edge of the hall, my chest pulls taut as I watch Jaxon, sorting through the contents of his fridge and pantry. “Goodbye, peanut butter,” he murmurs, dropping the jar in the trash. “Goodbye, honey-roasted nuts. Goodbye, white chocolate macadamia nut cookies.” He pulls out a box of Reese’s Puff cereal, and this giant, grown-ass man before me actually fucking whimpers. “Goodbye, sweet, sweet heaven.”
And when he’s done tossing his peanut and tree nut products? He opens the cupboard beneath his sink, pulls out a disinfectant, and wipes down the inside of his fridge, the countertops, and every single handle in his kitchen.
He rambles on while he cooks, talking more than I’ve ever heard him speak, but I can’t focus on a thing other than the fact that this man who everything in my entire body tells me to hate remembered what I’m allergic to even though I’ve never actually told him. That he recognized the signs of anaphylactic shock and rushed to my side. That he stayed there for four hours while I slept in the hospital. That he brought me home, gave me a bed, threw out all his nut products, and fucking sanitized his kitchen.
“Motherfucker batted at my balls like it was the last inning in the World Series and a home run would clinch the win.”
There’s a drop of blood on his left ball, no bigger than a pinprick, but it’s the raging erection I can’t look away from. Huh. My memories didn’t do Magic Mike justice. Was he always that big? That veiny? That angry purple head looks desperate for release, and my vagina screams We could take care of that! at my brain, which sends a signal to my legs to walk themselves over to him and spread myself wide. Goddammit, no. No, vagina. Keep it together, girl.
“Gonna get a knife. That’s a bad scratch. Don’t think your ball can be saved. Best we amputate.”
I’m not asking him to change his whole life. I’m asking him to stop swinging Magic Mike and his two backup dancers in my goddamn face first thing in the morning.
Jaxon Riley is . . . okay. He turned the heating up two degrees to 72 without me asking, because I was walking around wrapped in a blanket. I made an offhand remark about the single shelf in the shower not being big enough for all my products, and even though he said maybe that’s a sign to use fewer products, when I came home from lunch with the girls, there were brand-new floor-to-ceiling shelves in one corner of the shower. A step stool magically appeared in the pantry a day after he walked into the kitchen to see me scaling the counters so I could reach the mugs on the top shelf, and even
...more
I pick up the small green book, and something thick and foreign settles in my throat, something I can’t swallow down as I read the words scrawled over the cover. Lennon’s Guide to Making Coffee
When Destiny’s Child wrote “Bootylicious,” they were talking about Lennon’s ass, I’m certain of it.
I follow, my jaw hanging, watching as she snuggles in on the couch with my cat, chatting with my gran over FaceTime like they’ve known each other their whole lives. I sprawl out next to her, poking her thigh with my toes, because I want attention and I have none. Lennon lays her hand over my ankle, squeezing gently, and I don’t know why, but my chest tightens. By the time Gran is saying good night, her daily crossword is done, they’ve made weekly plans to video chat, and she’s got Lennon’s measurements for a special crochet project, which is exactly as terrifying as it sounds.
“I never met my parents. They died in a wreck. My mom was thirty-seven weeks pregnant, and they were able to save me. Gran stepped in and raised me.”
“New apartments, so I don’t have to hear you call me tidbit one more time, or see your tidbit again.” I aim a pointed look at his crotch.
“Gia’s getting fucked six ways to Sunday.” She’s also got a thumb in her bum, because Dante just told her every single one of her holes belongs to him, but that’s neither here nor there. “You were sitting next to me, on a plane filled with people, looking at apartments, while listening to that?” “Multitasker is on my résumé.”
“I have to scrub my eyes out.” “Why? Did they figure out how to hear sound?”
“My memory didn’t do you justice, honey. Knew I’d never tasted something so delicious, but didn’t realize a second taste would have me trying to figure out how I can make you my breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the rest of my life.” His mouth pauses at my ear, sending shivers scattering through me. “Eating well is the key to a happy life, after all.”
Jaxon is . . . living. Fresh air. An endless sky dotted with possibilities. He’s the deep breath before a scary step, the thundering of your pulse as you close your eyes and jump. He’s life beyond four suffocating walls, where stepping outside is like seeing in color for the first time.
It’s not until I hear the door close that my hand is finally able to find my hair, except it’s not my hair at all. It’s my silk wrap. Jaxon wrapped my hair before bed. I don’t even have the heart to tell him it was mostly pointless, considering he had his hands buried in it while he fucked my brains out. This is also the moment I realize I called my ex-fiancé Randy, not Ryne. Oops.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Laughter explodes from my chest, and I keel over, clutching my stomach. “Why are you wearing goggles?” She slices the knife through the air, pointing at the cutting board. “It’s the onions! I don’t want the fumes to get in my eyes!”
And I definitely don’t spend the rest of the night fucking my roommate on Valentine’s Day. And I most definitely do not come all over her pussy four times before the night is over. I also come in her mouth, on her tits, and all over her perfect ass. Oops. Happy Valentine’s Day.
And when Emmett comes home with a black eye or a split lip?” She whistles. “Bend me over, slap my ass, and fuck the feminist right out of me, you know?”
“I’m gonna attach a jingle bell to a ribbon, then tie the ribbon to your dick while you’re sleeping. Let’s see how Mittens likes that dangly toy in the morning.”
“If you move out . . . You can’t, because . . . Because I-I-I . . . I can’t save you if you’re not here with me.”
He starts unloading, setting everything up on the coffee table. My heartbeat trips, and when it restarts, it gallops like a horse. My leave-in conditioner and my comb. My curl butter and my favorite mousse. My hair dryer and my diffuser. Jaxon sits on the edge of the couch, spreading his legs. He gestures to the space there and picks up my comb. “C’mon, tidbit.” “What . . . what are you . . .” I swallow, pleading away the sting of my nose, the burn of my eyes. “You’re going to do my hair for me?” “I’m gonna try my best. I think I’ve watched you enough.” He takes my hand, guiding me to my feet,
...more
“You said a perfect life would be one where you spent the rest of it stargazing.” He grins, sheepish and boyish, my favorite. “You had your thighs wrapped around my head when you said it, and all I could think was that my perfect life would be one where I spent the rest of it with you riding my face.”
You asked to be loved, deserved it, and he failed to do it. He never deserved you, honey. Not an ounce of you. Not at seventeen, not at twenty-six, and not for the rest of your life or his.” His eyes move between mine. “You deserve better. So much fucking better. Got it?”
“Hey, Len, do you have my—holyfuckitsyourdragondildo.” Jaxon’s eyes widen,
“You’re my line.”
“The line that marks my before and after. I met you during the worst time in my life, and everything that’s come since you has been so much better. This, Jaxon?” I gesture at a sky I’ve been dreaming of seeing in person for as long as I can remember. That’s when I notice the blanket laid out by the shore, the pillows, a bag of takeout, a pile of warm clothes, and my brand-new telescope, set up and pointing at the stars. I sniffle, tears dripping down my cheeks. “This is my favorite day, and it’s because of you.”
“Hey, Carter.” Garrett flicks his chin up as him and Jennie twist by us. “Remember how I said I was looking for those Oreo cupcakes for you in the back ten minutes ago?” “Yeah . . .” “I lied. I was looking for your sister’s G-spot with my tongue.” He snickers. “Found it.” “You motherfucker!” Carter lunges for him, and Garrett and Jennie spin away, cackling and high-fiving, and this feels like the wrong time for this, but— “I believe sisterfucker is the word you’re looking for,” I murmur.
“You feel like Jaxon,” she says on a sigh. “Like Adam, and Rosie, and Connor too.” “Yeah? How’s that?”
“Warm and safe. Like sunshine in a hug.” Sunshine in a hug. Four simple words that describe every single person important to me in this room.
WELCOME TO THE DARK SIDE: THE COOCHIE GANG
“Why do you like me best?” “’Cause everyone else is always so happy and perfect, but sometimes you’re grumpy and sad, and it makes me feel like it’s okay to be grumpy and sad. I’m tired of pretending I’m always happy like everyone else.”
“Hey. Look at me. You don’t change a thing about yourself, okay? Don’t change a damn thing. You are perfect exactly the way you are, and you know something? The people who think you aren’t, are the people who don’t matter. We don’t give a fuck about those people, Sarah. We’re better off without them. The only people we have room for in our lives are the kind who don’t ask us to be anything or anyone we’re not. Wait for those people, Sarah. That’s the family you deserve.”
“You’re the only person whose opinion of yourself matters, Jaxon. Stop worrying about being enough for other people. Be enough for yourself.”
