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“Pinky what?” “Promise.” “Like a five-year-old?” “Are you five?” “No, I’m thirty.” “Then like a thirty-year-old.”
“Is that what you tell all the girls? Just spit it out? Seems… messy, and you don’t look like a guy that does… messy.”
“Never allow others to dampen your smile, Micaela. They’re not worth its loss.”
“Fuck, Shortcake. You do that again, and I won’t wait to get you into that ludicrous pink bus of yours before tearing these absurdly tight jeans off your perfect fucking ass.”
“You taste like sugar and sin, little Shortcake. You’re not as goody two shoes as you appear to be, are you?”
“Perhaps next time, we can play with some of those.” “I do believe that is the sexiest thing a man has ever said to me.”
“Goddamn it, Shortcake. You feel like every sin I ever wanted to commit.”
Henry Bardot is an animal in the sack, a grump on the street, and a softy who assists in aftercare and cuddles. This man never ceases to surprise me.
“Henry Bardot. Was that a smile and a laugh? Well, holy shit. Two orgasms and a smile. This is my lucky day.” My own smile is large and wide.
He tastes like wet dreams and ice cream, and I want to lick up every drop of him.
Before, I thought there was nothing that could make me smile. I was wrong. She can.
“You are far too beautiful to be repulsed by. Just looking at you sometimes catches me by surprise at how much I don’t want to look away.”
She’s like Xanax without the medical side effects. Relieving my anxiety and boosting my serotonin without a single pill.
They should bottle up her energy and smile and sell it in little pink bottles with the cutest cartoon hearts in existence on it. With zero side effects, she could very well put Xanax out of business.
“You are… unexpected, Micaela Hart. I never saw you coming.”
“You look like a pink cotton candy wet dream that I don’t want to wake up from.”
“Very well my pink princess. Your Zaddy shall fulfill your every need. Whatever a Zaddy is.”
