More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“Uh, yeah. Totally. I’m good at zippering.”
I have zero plans to let him inside my Disneyland. The sooner he accepts it, the better.
He smirks that fucking smirk, and I’m reminded exactly why I’ve affectionally labeled him Simon Syphilis.
“Unfortunately, I don’t feel like making any fuckboy-sized mistakes today.”
“I just wanna love you out loud. Why won’t you let me love you out loud?”
“Trust me, baby. Nobody loves as loud as you do.”
“I don’t need to be babysat, especially by Fuckboy of the Year over here.”
That’s what a soul mate is. Someone with smooth edges to soften our sharp ones. Someone who fits us so perfectly, vibrates on the same frequency, makes all our best parts shine. And together? Together, everything is exactly the way it’s meant to be.”
“Get outta here. I’m not scared.” I am terrified.
Besides, who needs a boyfriend when you’ve got a drawer full of battery-powered ones? Men don’t vibrate, but dildos do.
IT’S RAINING DILDOS
“Would you two shut the fuck up? Enough with the sound effects. You’re not fucking race cars.”
Words fail, so I knock again, quieter this time, ’cause I’m afraid to piss her off.
Am I giving her finger guns? I’m fucking giving her finger guns.
“Wrong apartment, fuckboy. Your hockey hooker lives across the hall.”
She might, like, bite. I don’t know how this shit works.
The box rips apart at the seams, the most beautiful rainbow of dildos and vibrators flying through the air between us in—I swear to God—slow fucking motion.
Then I shook the stupid away, loaded up my favorite Lovehoney cart with some exciting new toys, and reminded myself I could fuck me better than any guy could. And trust me, I do.
Apparently, ‘I’ll kiss it better’ isn’t the correct response.”
“Because he got slapped across the face by Indiana Bones,”
“For the love of God, tell me you slapped Garrett in the face with a dildo named Indiana Bones, please, Jennie.”
“I’m sorry Indiana Bones slapped you in the face.”
“All right, big boy. Let’s raid some temples tonight.”
“Fucking gray sweatpants,” she mutters. “Always with the gray.” Her gaze flips to mine. “Sorry, what did you say?”
Oh, shit. Scary eyes.
“I’m not shy, Jennie! I’m just fucking terrified of you!”
Get back, demon boy.
“Stupid … motherfucking … cocky … son of a goddamn bitch.”
“So fuckin’ sexy when you’re on your knees and, for once in your life, speechless.”
“There’s something about your bossy-as-fuck attitude that screams ‘boss me the fuck around in bed.’”
“Eyes on me, sunshine. Always on me.”
“You know, you’re turning out to be a little bossy.” “And you’re a fuckload bossy.”
“Now get in there so I can make sure you’re thoroughly cleaned.”
“Please, Mom. Olivia’s already reached maximum disappointment levels; she married your son.”
“With your permission, of course, because I don’t have a death wish.”
So I’ll overthink something else, like his clothes in my hands. I should put on my own. But he offered, didn’t he? So it’s not weird, right?
Sunshine: Funny, I thought you’d respect my outfit rather than ripping it off my body. Me: I’m gonna disrespect the fuck outta your body just for that.
Sunshine: J–1, G–0 God. Damn. Genius.
Mr. Itty Bitty? I think the fuck not. Sunshine: Gonna head to bed to take care of myself. Talk to you tomorrow. Me: Don’t u fucking dare.
Me: I swear to god if u go to bed right now I will fly home early and wake you up with my cock down your damn throat.
“Yeah, ’cause you’re hot as balls and you intimidated the fuck out of me.”
“It turns you on. You like the way I talk to you.”
She’s playing shy, afraid to say it out loud, so I’m gonna help her. She doesn’t get to hide with me, not anymore.
“I like that I can make you shy. Take the boldest, bravest girl I know and make you speechless, even for a second. And then you get this big smile on your face and come to life, like my words spur you on. You’re the best mix of shy and confident when you’re naked, and I love watching you get there.”
“Don’t go shy on me now, sunshine. We both know that’s not you. You’re my favorite flavor, so go on and taste.”
“You’re not the boss of me.” “The fuck I’m not. Ride your fingers, gorgeous, and pretend it’s my cock.”
Bear: *sad emoji* but I wanna kiss u Okay, well that’s kind of sweet. Bear: Oops, autocorrect. **Kiss ur pussy There it is.
My smile is weak, and I hate it. I hate this the urge to fit in when I don’t really want to. I want to be unapologetically me, and what I wouldn’t give for people to love those parts. More than that, I want to believe they do. I’m tired of the doubt, of tucking pieces of myself away in hopes that someone might take me in. No matter how much I starve it, the fear grows like weeds. I’m a tangled web of uncertainties and insecurities, and I don’t recognize myself.
“I forgot to mention this a couple weeks ago, but your wife wants you to fuck her like you mean it.”
‘Did you slash my tires? I get to spank you if you did.’
