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.

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.

My sub doesn't pay for me,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “That just doesn't happen.”“But we ordered so much,” I say helplessly.“It made you happy,” he says simply. “Now I get to play with you. And that makes me happy.”“I don't think it's that simple an equation.”“Maybe not,” he concedes. “But then, if if sex were the same thing as math, a lot more people would be lining up to take calculus.

Fuck, Christina.”“Yes, fuck Christina. I think she'd like that.