When you conquer something, it means you fought for it.

Before we met, I'd fly for hours to clear my head," Bones said, his voice reaching me even over the rush of wind. "It was the closest I came to finding peace, but though several of my mates could fly, I always went alone. I never wanted to share this with anyone until you.

Maybe I was worrying for nothing. Maybe it had just been casual for him, and I wouldn't even have to tell him it couldn't happen again. After all, the man was a couple hundred years older than me and a former gigolo. I certainly hadn't robbed him of his virginity.

See?” I’d whispered to Bones, nudging him with a grin. “He never argues with her. Isn’t that sweet?” A snort preceded his response. “Keep dreaming, pet.

"If you’d refrain from slamming my face any more into this dirty rock floor, I’ll do whatever you like," was his even reply. "Fancy letting my head go?" "Sure," I said with an unpleasant snicker, not relinquishing an ounce of pressure. "How about I let you floss with my jugular as well? I don’t think so."

You can have all of me, I silently told him, but I'm taking all of you in return.

Isn’t he gorgeous?” With those rolls, the wet-sounding grunts, bulbous wiggly tail, and smashed face—not to mention the fart the dog let out once he situated himself—he was gorgeous in a way that only a parent could appreciate.