Holy water at my wrists and behind my ears; my version of Eau de Don'tbiteme

I am going to love you now, slow and sweet.

Air ye deaf, lass?" I think. He might have called me a hairy jackass

Irony, perfect definition: that for which I want to possess it, I would no longer want once I possessed it.

Cat got your tongue? And what a lovely tongue it is. I know. It licked every inch of me. Repeatedly. For months," He purred but with steel in the velvet

I hammered him with my fists. He just stood and took it. He didn't suffer graciously, he looked pissed off to no end. But he let me hit him. And he didn't hit me back.

Are you decent?" a woman's voice called, pushing the door cautiously ajar. "Nay, but we're clothed," Cian purred.