Passenger Princess

by Morgan Elizabeth

I know God has to be a woman because no man has a sense of humor this good.

Everything this woman does rubs me in a way that makes me want to simultaneously strangle her and drag her into a room to fuck her until she can't argue with me anymore.

“You said you like ice cream. You said you missed ice cream.” I stare at him, not believing it, and eventually, he keeps talking. “I didn’t know you had a dairy allergy,” he says, beginning his verbal vomit. “I thought you were just a cliché, watching your calories and wishing you could have dessert, but it didn’t fit into some kind of contrived diet. I judged you, and I was an ass. Now I'm making it right.”

She keeps looking over her shoulder at me, smiling as she does, and each time, it both angers me and turns me on in a way it absolutely should not.

“If I admit I like you, will you behave for me?”

“Because have you met men these days? I barely trust them to take me to dinner, much less choke me while they fuck me.”

"This is how it works, Ava. I kiss you. Every time, I kiss you, and I do it in a way that you can never forget what it's like to be kissed by a man wholly and completely obsessed with you."

“I deserve a man who, when he looks at me, when he says he wants me, he means it. He knows it to his bones. I deserve a man who is decisive. I don’t deserve this whiplash you’ve been giving me. I don’t deserve someone who kisses me like he's going to change my life, then ignores me and treats me like any old job. I deserve the world, and if you're not willing to give it to me, I need to know now."

“You're always so mouthy with me; let’s put it to good use. Open up, baby.”