If sex were food, Rhage would haven been morbidly obese.

The front door swung open, and Zsadist strode into the house. Wrath glared. "Nice of you to show up, Z. Busy tonight with the females?""How about you get off my dick?

As far as he was concerned, there were only two good positions for a human. A female on her back. And a male facedown not breathing.

And I'll wash your other clothes. Shall I also order you a new set of leathers?""Don't-" Wrath shut his mouth. "Sure. That'd be great. And, ah, could you get me some boxers? Black? XXL?

Well, wasn't this a night for firsts. Sex. Arson. Pants.

Just do it,'' she prompted him. Then she rolled her eyes. ''God, you've turned me intro a Nike commercial.” ― J.R. Ward, Prisoner of Night