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Hell is empty and all the devils are here. Shakespeare
God, the way he says my name . . . a crazy part of me wants to drop to my knees in worship. Do whatever I need to do to keep him saying my name over and over.
Not the kind of guy who will wrap his belt around her throat and fuck her so hard, her nails tear into the mattress.
But there’s a reason it’s called a crush and not something nicer. Because falling for someone you know will never want you back is crushing.
Why are fictional men so much hotter than men in real life? This is my new favorite book.
You think you’re lucky just to have a man glance your way, when really a man would be lucky to fall to his knees before you. You think you’re the type of girl who should only want the things that are sweet and nice, even if that’s not what you really want deep down. You’re an iceberg girl—most people only get to see the five percent that’s on the surface, what you choose to show them. But there’s a lot more to you hiding underneath.”
“I don’t do sweet and gentle,” he warns. “If you’re looking for a prince, he’s not me. I want my belt around your throat. I want to fuck you so hard, your nails leave scars on my back. If I kiss you, you’re mine.”
“I know, baby. You’re doing amazing. You’re taking my cock like such a fucking good girl.”
plays like she’s this meek, quiet book nerd. But she’s got another side. A girl who wants me to choke her with my belt and make her come on my cock where anyone could walk in on us.
