Can you really crush stone?” Angel asked. “Or was that a lie?”Without looking behind him, David slammed his fist into one of the marble columns. It cracked, and several chunks immediately crumbled loose to scatter to the tiled floor like crumbs of flaking pastry. “Elevators,” he said. “This way.”“Jesus Christ,” Angel said to Cassandra. “He doesn’t look scary, but he’s fucking terrifying.

When they figure out how to bottle up orgasms and sell them as a food additive, I'll be first in line.

Knives and candlelight,” he said, “how romantic.

All lines are gray in the dark.

If you don't cut it out, I'm pulling this car over and everyone in the parking lot at Sizzler's is going to know my name.

Let me tell you, managing a bunch of high-maintenance white women who freak out every time their European hair dryer blows out an outlet isn't exactly a picnic.

If you fucked the way you mouthed off to me, I'd have come by now.

How was the sex?” he asked casually.“Excuse me?”“How was it,” said Nicholas, emphasizing each syllable, “when he fucked you? I'm assuming it was a he. Tell me all about it. I want to know.”Jay set her fork down with a ping. “It was fine.”“Dinner is fine. Cable television is fine. I'm asking if, when he was pounding into you at night with his college boy cock, were you screaming the walls down, or were you just lying there calculating last night's tips?

I believe you are familiar with my stance on handcuffs, shape-shifter. Particularly when you’re the one wearing them.