Dear Enemy Quotes

“Loving you was inevitable. You got under my skin at age eleven and never left.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“I'm going to love you, Macon Saint. So long and so hard you're not going to remember what it feels like to be without love.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“A lady friend once told me that when a woman wears red lipstick to meet a man, it’s for two possible reasons. Either she wants him to fuck her, or she wants to tell him to fuck off.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Countless people call me Saint. Only you call me Macon with that bitter honey voice.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“I can't cry. I keep trying but nothing happens. There was just this fucking heaviness, a thick black ball in my troat. But no tears. You never cried. No matter how badly we argued I never saw you shed a tear. Neither have I. Which makes me wonder why is that we can't cry. Are we some kind of broken?”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Delilah. We react to each other like the vinegar-and-baking-soda experiments we used to do in science class as kids. Even now she brings out the immature ass in me. But the second she walked back into my life, I became aware of two uncomfortable but undeniable facts: I am lonely as hell, and Delilah Baker feels like home.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“I hate that saying. Meanness is meanness. To tell a girl that there’s some sort of benevolent action behind it all is to say that it’s okay for her to be victimized.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Too bad emotions don’t listen to orders.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Are we some kind of broken?”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“It’s taken me years to truly understand that I don’t have to take other people’s crap lying down.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“knew what a happy relationship looked like; my parents’ marriage was ideal. And yet whenever I thought of falling in love, I’d feel slightly ill and unsettled. Love is risk. For me, opening myself up to certain risks meant opening myself up to pain.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Most of us pretend to be something we’re not. It’s only to a select few that we really show our true selves.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“stars overhead gave you hope because, even though it took years for their light to reach us, their starlight still gave us joy when we looked upon them.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Mama used to say the brain can lie to you, but the heart always knows the truth.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“My mother once told me that if you have something truly important to say, write it in a letter. Not an email or text or typed out. But to put pen to paper. A person’s handwriting, the places they press harder on the page, the blots and errors in the ink, show their soul. Put your thoughts in a letter, and the receiver has a record of it forever, not just a memory but something they can pull out and touch when they need a reminder.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“I suspected that was the true mark of the devil: turning people into starry-eyed fools when they ought to know better.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“He's not getting under my skin, he's becoming part of it. I don't think I can walk away from him now without tearing a good chunk of myself apart.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“You act all high and mighty while you’re as susceptible to good looks as the rest of us. At least I have the guts to admit it.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“I say it should be ‘dicks will be dicks, and a misbehaving dick deserves a knee to the balls.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“I want to move." Delicately shaking, slickly sweating, I strain against Macon's bulk. It's no use; he has me pinned to the chair, his cock thick and pulsing deep inside. And not fucking moving.
He grins down at me, a drop of sweat trickling down the side of his flushed face. "Not yet."
Slowly, too damn slowly, he circles his hips, stretching me, making me ache.
"I need to come," I whisper. Whine. Plead. It's all the same. Every inch of me throbs. Pleasure is a tightly drawn bow within, and I need that snap of release.
His grin fades, replaced by intention. "You will. When I'm ready."
"Sadist."
He nips my earlobe. "You love it."
I shudder as that glorious dick of his eases out, making me feel every hard inch, only to slowly push back in. Too fucking slowly. I'm writhing on him, and he loves it. Dark eyes glint as he works me.
Naked in the sun and sprawled on an armchair that barely holds us, he's been fucking me with a steady deliberation designed to drive me out of my mind. And though I'm a pleading, panting mess, I love it too.
God, he's gorgeous. Endless muscle and tan skin beaded with sweat, flush from exertion. His expression is slack, hazy with lust. It sends licks of pleasure along my skin. Panting, I reach up and touch his jaw, trying to draw him near. He complies, dipping his head. Our mouths meet in a lazy, deep kiss, an exchange of air, messy exploration of lips and tongues.
He groans, shivering. Not unaffected. Just so very good at torturing me.
In. Out. Pull. Push.
"Macon," I whisper into his mouth. "Please. Fuck me."
He freezes, and then with another groan, all that power and need breaks free. I can only hold on as he goes hard and deep. The chair scrapes along the floor as he pounds into me. Every thrust impacts my swollen, sensitive sex. Pleasure builds and builds until I'm keening, my eyes closed as though I can somehow hang on to the feeling forever. But it breaks over me in a shimmering wave.
Macon's teeth clamp down on the meaty curve of my neck, not hard but holding me there as his thrusts turn rapid, a greedy chase of his own pleasure. It's so animalistic and unexpected that another orgasm slams into me with unexpected power.
I lose track of myself, of him. My fingers claw at his back, thread through his hair. I'm struggling to get closer, get more. He comes with a great shout, his big strong body straining against mine.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“With a noise of want, he cups my breast, then leans over it. His mouth is hot and wet, and I groan, arching into him as he sucks my nipple in deep. He releases me with a long satisfied lick and then does it all over again.
"Macon..." It's a plea. For more, for it everywhere.
He seems to know this because he looks up at me from beneath the fan of his lashes as his wicked tongue flicks over my other nipple. "It's my turn to play."
Play he does, suckling my nipples until they're swollen and stiff and gleaming, then rubbing the flat of his fingers over the sensitive tips--- a slow, heavy circle. The action is so lewd, so basely sexual, that I writhe and moan against him, my leg hooking over his trim hips in an attempt to bring him over me.
But he resists, his focus all on me. He makes his way over my body, learning every curve and hollow--- gentle little kisses of shuddering pleasure, slow wet kisses of greed. When he gets to the rise of my hip bone, he pauses. His big hands settle over my thighs, gripping them lightly. His gaze, dark and hot, meets mine.
"Spread these thighs, Tot, and show me what I've been dreaming about for far too long."
Slowly, I open to him. I feel the exposure in the soft stretch of my inner thigh muscles, the cool rush of air against my wet sex. My breasts jiggle with every shuddering breath I take. Macon's attention is rapt. He licks his lower lip, and I clench deep within me.
With a groan, he lowers his head and kisses my pussy like a man deprived of air. Pleasure jolts through me, hot and sharp. I writhe against that slowly questing mouth of his. He fucking feasts, and I can't help but put my hand on the back of his head to hold him there, urging him to take more.
God, the feel of his tongue sliding and searching; my clit becomes so swollen and sensitive I'm half trying to get away. But he won't let me. The sight of his broad shoulders between my legs, the fan of his lashes shadowing an expression of sheer greed, has me teetering on an orgasm. He stops to place a soft, firm kiss right on my clit like it's something he has to do, this bit of utter affection at the height of his lust, and I fall.
Arching against the bed, I come and come. Macon kisses me again, his hand soothing my quivering belly in gentle circles, then rises to hover over me. "Of all the flavors you've given me," he says roughly. "That was my favorite."
God. I lick my dry lips, my breath catching. "You can have a taste anytime you like.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“The sun is no more than a tiny pinpoint of orange light atop an indigo sea now, leaving the sky violent shades of hot pink, lavender, and teal. Evening breezes play over us, carrying the scent of the ocean. It's getting cold, but Macon's body is warm and solid against mine.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“When we were teens, the bold way she occupied the world around her fascinated me. For all appearances, she was a shy girl, not liking the spotlight turned on her. The clothes she chose, the way she wore her hair, all of it was designed to blend into a crowd. Logically, she should have crept through life as well. But no. Some part of her might have wanted to hide, but Delilah's true nature was to shine bright.
For someone who drew the eye without effort yet secretly hated the attention, I realized even then that she was my true opposite. And that we were both somewhat twisted.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“I can't help myself. I lean in and kiss her like I've wanted to all day, deep and sweet.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Make. Me. His answering grin is crafty. “Later.” “Later for what?” Karen demands in a snit. “To perform my other services.” I dab the corner of my mouth. Because fuck her. Macon chokes on a sip of his water. North, however, just laughs, a big booming sound. “I like her,” he says to a glowering Macon.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“The second she walked back into my life, I became aware of two uncomfortable but undeniable facts: I am lonely as hell, and Delilah Baker feels like home.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Mama used to say the brain can lie to you, but the heart always knows the truth.” I shrug. “Problem is, most of us would rather believe the lie than face the truth.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“I can't cry. I keep trying but nothing happens. There was just this fucking heaviness, a thick black ball in my troat. But no tears. You never cryed. No matter how badly we argued I never saw you shed a tear. Neither have I. Which makes me wonder why is that we can't cry. Are we some kind of broken?”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“He's not getting under my skin, he's becoming a part of it. I don't think I can walk away from him now without tearing a good chunk of myself apart.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“I can't cry. I keep trying but nothing happens. There was just this fucking heavines, a thick black ball in my throat. But no tears. You never cried. No matter how badly we argued I never saw you shed a tear. Neither have I. Which makes me wonder why it is that we can't cry. Are we some kind of broken?”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy