Next time you think of me like that , say my name when you come. It'll get you off even better.

I'm sorry," Butch croaked. "Oh God, I'm so sorry..." V put his arm out and curled it around the cop. Pulling the male close to his chest, he laid his head down on his buddy's. "It's okay," He said roughly. "It's all right. It's okay...You did the right thing.

Rule number four for me as a writer? Plotlines are like sharks: They either keep moving or they die. ~J.R. Ward

Next time you think of me like that , say my name when you come. It'll get you off even better.

I'm not hurt. I'm pissed off and sexually frustrated.

Did television execs have souls? Now, that was an existential question and a half.

Welcome to the wonderful world of jealousy, he thought. For the price of admission, you get a splitting headache, a nearly irresistable urge to commit murder, and an inferiority complex. Yippee.