With a low sound, he moved against her so that her backside was flush with his hips and she could feel every inch of him through his boxers.There were a lot of inches.

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

Oh my God.”“Why? Are you going to worship me, little seer?” He let his arm drape possessively over her hip. “You know, I bet I could give you visions if I kissed you hard enough,” he added wickedly.

She said my glasses made me look like a butch jock's locker room bitch.

Manners,” I say. “It ain't polite to taste people. Shit.

I'm sorry I missed the meeting and hurt your little feely-weels okay?

Some people are born to fandom, others have fandom thrust upon them.

Knowledge is a rope, and you're weaving a noose out of it. Leave some slack for the enemy.

In my experience, the romance novels written about BDSM have about as much in common with actual BDSM relationships as a child playing with a jump rope.