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Marriage for love is for princesses in the fairytales, not princesses in the Mafia.
“I can’t believe you remember that.” “I remember every second I’ve spent with you.”
“Don’t ever cover yourself in front of me. Not when you look like Aphrodite herself.”
“Did he fuck you sweet and slow like the princess you think you are or hard and rough like the whore I know you are?”
“I’m pretty sure that conversation ended with me slapping you.” “No, princess. It ended with my lips on that pussy and my name on yours.”
she told me to get on my knees, and I fell like a sinner begging for salvation.
“Fuck, Effie. If I’ve ruined you, you’ve obliterated me.”
“Fuck me and tell me how lucky you
are.” He stills his thrusts and breathes heavily, taking in my words. “How lucky you are that after everything that’s happened, everything you’ve done, I’m still here, still wanting you.”
The deep programming all women have to protect men’s emotions even at the expense of your own. I shove that feeling down, because fuck that.
You may be a princess, but I’m gonna treat you like my whore.”
“You did so well, princess. I’m so proud of you.” I fucking melt. “I can’t wait to reward you.”
“Did we already get to the ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ part? Because I object on account that Euphemia Fox is already married. To me.”
