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As they say, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em and then beat their ass later . . . or something like that.
“Can you imagine him in bed?” I whisper back. “The key to sex is penetration; right now you have none, but when I’m done with you, you will.”
Blake has nothing in common with anyone, except maybe Satan.
I’ve never understood why that word was ever considered an insult. To me, it’s a compliment. It’s one of the strongest organs there is. It creates life, it makes men stupid, and it bleeds every month—yet it doesn’t die.
