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For all the bookworms who think praise and degradation kink should always go hand in hand.
A lot of silly people will insist that you have to be less, but I’m telling you now that you can be more. You can be big and loud. You can take up space. In fact, it’s your right to do so. Do you understand?”
“What’s our mantra?” I ask, holding a hand behind my ear. “My body is unique and beautiful just the way it is,” they shout.
“You are beautiful. You are perfect just the way you are. Food is nourishment, not the enemy.”
It’s much easier to hate someone when they don’t look like every dark romance book boyfriend I’ve ever been obsessed with over the years.
And that freaking helmet … combined with that fitted leather jacket and his thick thighs hugging the seat of his bike …
I need her like I used to need alcohol. One vice for another, yet I’m not sure which is worse. My old obsession with alcohol. And now my obsession with my stepsister.
Sometimes I miss drinking, but other times, like now, it’s much more fun to be sober.
Someone might be surprised that my biggest sexual fantasy is to be called names. To be corrupted by someone with more experience.
Dancing is my safe space—the place where I can let go and be vulnerable and let my body feel the music completely.
I’d like to think I’m a good person, but when it comes to Layla, I’d gladly unravel her innocence, thread by thread.
The things I could do with her. And the things I could do to her. My mind runs fucking wild.
He likes historical fiction, and I like books where the hero tells the heroine, I love seeing my pretty little slut mouth take my cock.
Besides, I hate to admit it, but if Starboy broke in wearing his mask, I’m not sure I’d be scared. I think I’d be turned the hell on. What is happening to me?!
It’s like a fresh chocolate chip cookie hot from the oven … you know you’re going to get burned when you bite into it, but you will love every moment of the glorious agony.
Zoe looks up at me with honey-brown eyes. “My little vanilla bean isn’t so vanilla after all, is she?”
She wants a villain? Well, I’m the one who can give it to her—the guy who buys her flowers and burns the world for her.
I miss her, sure. But I also need her. And that scares me so fucking much.
“Don’t you see? I’m kind to you. I’m generous—to you. Everything I do is for you, Layla. Doesn’t it bother you that I’d let the world burn to save you?”
Somehow, he’s managed to effortlessly carve out a space in my heart without me even realizing it. Like he’s always belonged there, quietly and patiently finding his way in. Like he’s been waiting for me to catch up.
the people who matter the most are the ones who like you for who you are, not who they want you to be.
