Whoa, Who Peed In Your Cheerios?

You're A Psychopath." "i Prefer Creative.

He Tasted Deeper, Holding Himself Over Me, And Suddenly He Was Everywhere; His Knee Trapping My Leg, His Lips Grazing Warm, Rough, Sensuous. He Splayed His Hand At The Small Of My Back, Holding Me Tightly, Driving Me To Sink My Fingers Deeper Into Him, Clinging To Him As If Letting Go Would Mean Losing Part Of Myself.

Cooking Isn’t Taught,” Patch Said. “it’s Inherent. Either You’ve Got It Or You Don’t. Like Chemistry. You Think You’re Ready For Chemistry?” I Pressed The Knife Down Through The Tomato; It Split In Two, Each Half Rocking Gently On The Cutting Board. “you Tell Me. Am I Ready For Chemistry?” Patch Made A Deep Sound I Couldn’t Decipher And Grinned.

We Don't Have An Address," I Said, "but We Do Know Where He Works." "are You Thinking What I'm Thinking?" Vee Asked, Eyes Brightening Briefly Through The Haze Of Chemical Sedation. "based On Past Experience, I Hope Not.

If We're Doing This For Ten Hours, I'm Going To Need A Little Incentive To Stay Motivated." Patch Hooked His Elbow Around My Neck And Dragged Me Into A Kiss. "every Time You Strip My Sword, I Owe You A Kiss. How's That Sound?" I Bit My Lip To Keep From Giggling. "that Sounds Really Dirty." Patch Waggled His Eyebrows. "look Whose Mind Just Rolled Into The Gutter. Two Kisses Per Strip. Any Objections?" I Pulled On An Innocent Face. "none Whatsoever.