And then there was Lydia. Lydia who had hurtled into his life – into lives – with hair like fire, eyes like amethysts and a fuck-me scent so palpable that he’d betrayed the only woman he’d ever loved.
We all have a sea inside us; can you hear it? Can you hear the ocean roaring?
She waited for him with shallow breaths, head thrown back, eyes half closed, completely exposed in her trust of him, and it unravelled the last thread holding him together.
She thumbed a drying tear away.
I’m only saying what you won’t. He’s a hunk, admit it. A tall, dark, exotic hunk who wants to bed you, and you must be a fucking nun, because it’s been three weeks since you met him and you’re going to have to remove the cobwebs from your v...
...you’d be amazed at the grand tales the human brain will throw up to make sense of something nonsensical.
He could have watched her all night. He could watch her for an eternity and still never be able to capture the essence of what it is that makes ‘love’.
Half naked, he drank her in with his eyes, imprinting this moment into his mind. This, he would take to his death – the woman that stirred him to life.
How we take it for granted – those trivial conversations; those mundane moments that we think hold no meaning. We never realise how much we rely on the ordinariness of everyday life. When love is gone – when our entire world is gone – only then...
To submit isn’t to be forced. It’s to yield a force greater than your own, in order to become part of the whole.
Women eat ice-cream, men toast marshmallows.
As if reading her mind, he leaned into her again, pupils dark, irises glowing like a forest caught in the last rays of sun before dusk… “Do you want me to make you come?” “Is that a trick question?
How can you lose me? You’ve owned me from the first moment I saw you.
Time flies when you grow fangs and fur.
The one thing you should never do to a woman, whether you make love to her or fuck her, is apologise straight after.
