Grace

“Break a leg . . . please,” Cole says with a grin. “Lose a testicle . . . please,” I say as I reach up and drag my finger over his cheek, wiping a large smear of green off his face. Atlas gasps next to us. “Ah, she ruined your makeup. It took me ten minutes to get that right.”
― Meghan Quinn, How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

“See that look on her face? That’s Christmas joy. I just brought her Christmas joy with a shake of my breasts. I bet Cole can’t do that.”
― Meghan Quinn, How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

“From this position, I’m close enough to see tiny peach fuzz hairs on her thighs, the subtle shift of muscle under supple skin. She has a scar on her right knee that looks like it’s from childhood, freckles scattered about. I try very hard not to look at the seam of her shorts, but I fail, my attention ticking there long enough to memorize the denim swell of her pussy, how her inner thighs are extra soft the higher they go.”
― Tessa Bailey, Merry Ever After

“It was startling. I gasped when I witnessed her rise, like an erection sprung right from a pair of tighty-whities.” I grimace at my friend, not liking that analogy.”
― Meghan Quinn, How My Neighbor Stole Christmas