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For the girls who feel like they take up too much space. You don’t. They just don’t dream big enough. (And for the girlies who love the quiet boys with filthy mouths–Reid Duncan is for you).
No, I don’t know, but the only way I can get out of this excruciating conversation that’s lightyears worse than a lobotomy is to grin and bear it.
Tired of guys who believe women are only allowed to occupy certain spaces in the world. I don’t know when common decency—like holding the door open and not making sexist jokes—became the bare fucking minimum, but gosh I hate it here. I’d rather be single for the rest of my life than deal with this shit on a consistent basis.
I slide out of the booth knowing full well this dude wouldn’t be able to find my G-spot even with a map and step-by-step instructions.
“You’re pretty. Very pretty, and also the first woman who hasn’t made fun of me for liking superheroes. I’m wondering if my friends put you up to this as some sort of dare, because I’m not sure what the hell I did to have someone as gorgeous as you rattle off comic book titles at me.”
“And I’m sorry people have made fun of the things that bring you joy.”
“You don’t wear boat shoes to events where the dinner plate costs two hundred bucks a head?” “Fuck no,” he says. “Crocs only.”
She’s funny. Quick-witted and smart. Gorgeous and a total knockout. And when she dropped a comic book title into casual conversation like she was talking about the weather? My heart almost fell out of my chest.
“I have Emmy’s handwriting tattooed on my chest. Her name has been my phone passcode since the week after I met her. I’m king of the fucking cheese.
“God, she’s beautiful,” he says. “Look at her. I get to wake up to that face for the next fifty years, and I’m going to want fifty more.” “Shit.” Maverick drops his head back and sniffs. “Why am I crying? I never fucking cry.” I wipe my eyes. “Because she’s perfect for him, and all we’ve ever wanted is to see Dallas happy.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who takes what they want.” I run my hands up his chest and tug on his tie. “But you can be greedy with me, Reid.”
I love when the quiet ones surprise you. Just when you think you have them figured out, they do something out of character, like get on their knees and eat you out like you’re their favorite meal.
Playing MASH and using me on your lists of wives.” “We’re probably going to end up living in a shack. I’m sorry about the hole in the ceiling,” he says. “I’ll decorate and make it nice.
“Can’t remember. Don’t give a shit. Let me fucking eat, Ave. Please.” I press a hand to her stomach, keeping her in place so I can fucking feast.
“What do you want, Avery?” he asks, and my name sounds like a wicked sin. “The nice guy you met at the bar? Or do you want me to fuck you like I hate you?” “You know the answer to that.” I lean over and brush my mouth against his. A tease, a taste of what could’ve been. “I can tell by how hard you are that you absolutely despise me.”
Me Thanks. Give Dallas a kiss for me. Maven You boys are so weird.
I need a lobotomy.
She was looking at me, and that makes me feel like a real smug bastard.
“You’re beautiful,” Reid murmurs, and I tuck it away close to my chest. “Sometimes I still can’t believe I get to have you like this.” “In another part of your stadium?” I ask, my lips moving to his neck. I kiss below his ear. Above his collarbone, and I smile when he tips his head back and groans. “It’s becoming a trend, I’ve noticed.” “No.” The single word shakes. Turns fraught and hesitant, like he’s afraid to admit this next part out loud. “Like you’re mine.”
“You never take up too much space, Ave. Not with me,” he says. “I think I’d like you to take up more of it.”
I’m still looking at her long after she falls asleep, and I think I’d like to find a way to keep her here for more than a year. I want to find a way to keep her here forever.
“There’s the holiday spirit.” I smile. “Nothing says Christmas like a perfect pussy.” “Falalala, I want to eat you out later.”
