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That’s what cancer does. It ravages you from the inside out without caring who you are. It doesn’t matter whether you keep the world in the palm of your hand or if you have more money than God. It just feeds on death. And death always wins, one way or another.
“Did you come, princess?” he asks. If you have to ask, the answer is no.
Sometimes the greatest love comes from the most unlikely of places.”
“Your second mistake,” I whisper, “was disrespecting my wife.”
“I want to reach into your chest and hold your heart in my hands, making sure it only beats for me,” I rasp. “But I don’t want your firsts, Yasmin. I want your forever.”
“I’m in love with you, Julian Faraci. And I would burn the world myself if it meant I could keep you by my side.”
“Don’t interrupt me while I’m staring at my wife,” I purr, unbuckling my belt and lowering my pants until my cock pops out, hard and aching.
“Fuck me like a whore,” she moans, running her slit along the length of my cock, making it drenched from her arousal. “You’re not a whore.” Her legs push against my frame and then wrap around my back, pulling me into her, my dick lined up perfectly at her entrance, and her eyes lock on mine. “I’m your whore.” Jesus.
Some people say that family is family, blood is blood. But I say that toxic is toxic, and no one is more important than my inner peace, even if it means I lose them for good.
“Don’t you know yet, gattina? I would do anything for you. Burn this life down to the ground and build a whole new world if you demanded it.”
