Mace really wanted to shift right then and there. Rip the mans throat out and bring his lifeless corpse back to Dez as a kinda pre-wedding gift. Although right in the middle of Macy's ...that might be a bit tacky. Even for him.
Shelly LaurenstonTags: mace dez-the-mane-event
You know,” Ricky began, “if you’re not busy tonight—”
Pointing at Ricky with her cell phone, the teen asked, “Are you our daddy?”
Disgusted, Ricky stated to the jackal, “Woman, there has to be an easier way for you to get rid of a man.”
“Perhaps, but I’ve found that there’s nothing quicker. “She winked at him, then gestured behind him with her chin. “And you may want to check on your brother—he’s still bleeding.”
“Yeah. I think Novikov nicked an artery . . . again.
So what’s going on?” Livy asked after spitting out a bit more blood.
“Got a job for you.”
“Will I be whoring?”
“Not this time. I’m sorry.”
“You know how I love to whore,” Livy stated with that flat tone that freaked people out, because no one ever knew whether she was joking or not.
Okay. Fine.” Angelina was silent. For about fifteen seconds. “But you do know that a vibrator can’t really be your boyfriend.”
Miki dropped her head into her hands. “I will not discuss Mr. Happy with the likes of you.”
Angelina sighed. “I find the fact that you named your vibrator disturbing on so many levels.”
“Best relationship I’ve ever had.
All right fine!” she snapped. “I’m in love with you. There. I said it. Now get over yourself.”
“You know, I think those are the words written on the Taj Mahal: ‘I said it. Now get over yourself.’ Some of the greatest love stories have started with those words.
Over the years, Gwen had found there were two kinds of men. Men who made eating a woman an art form because they were average—or barely—in size so they had to compensate. And men who were hung like horses but felt that nine-incher somehow exempted them from one of her favorite forms of entertainment.
Yet somehow that Irish luck that had kept Gwen alive all these years deigned to reward on her the highest blessing a woman could hope for. A well-hung man who loved to give his woman head.
Tags: sexy-humor
Lock glanced at the woman in his arms. She was no longer sobbing, but was now smiling and giving her best Queen Elizabeth wave to her nonexistent “people.”
“I,” she somberly intoned, not to Lock but her invisible “people,” “as your ruler and sovereign, do thank you for this lovely throne.”
She motioned to the chair. “You may now place me in my throne.”
“You have got to be kidding me, Jessica.”
“Place me!
Tags: royal-sarcasm
Oh, come on, Jess!” May begged. “Just let me sit in it.”
“No! It’s mine!” Jess rested her head against Lock’s shoulder. “All mine. My throne of power. By this chair I rule.
Tags: humor
I’ll wait until we’re both older,” the kid went on, “and then I’ll nail her.”Van hit the brakes. “What?”“Like you and Aunt Irene.”Panic beginning to set in, Van asked again, “What?”“That’s what you told her last night when I was scrubbing the pots from dinner. You were going to nail her. Then you laughed.”Oh, shit. “Uh, Ric . . .”“And so I’ll just wait until my future mate and I are older and then I’ll nail her. Or we’ll nail each other. That sounds like more fun. Nailing each other.”“Listen, Ulrich—”“What is that, anyway? Nailing? The way Aunt Irene smiled when you said it; I’m guessing its fun, right?
Shelly LaurenstonI’m here with Eggie.”
All eyes focused on Ric and he suddenly felt like he’d just been handed a speedy death sentence.
“Not for that!” Miss Darla gasped, then added with a firm nod. “Don’t you worry one bit, Ulrich.
I made Eggie fill in that shallow grave before we drove up here.”
Lock grimaced and Ric swallowed. “Thank you?
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