“I hadn’t been anywhere like this since high school, since Brett’s house. It had been gross with excess, but this place was fucking hideous. There might as well have been hundred dollar bills stapled to the goddamn walls with all… — Misha Horne Copy Share Image
“Call me a pussy if you want. Delusional, impractical, whatever. But, I know myself, and that shit’s called survival. The bad in me, it… — Misha Horne Copy Share Image
“If slapping and sparring with someone who was so damn good at pushing my buttons I wanted to choke them counted as romance, then… — Misha Horne Copy Share Image
“He was already everywhere. In my bed, in my sheets, sprawled on my couch— he was a ghost before he even left, a memory… — Misha Horne Copy Share Image
“It wasn’t something I craved too often. Never like I wanted it now. I’d never craved being filled up with someone else just so… — Misha Horne Copy Share Image
“On whose fucking authority had I become interested in spanking? I tried taking stock of my brain and my gut and my dick, but… — Misha Horne Copy Share Image
“I wanted to say something good, something better, something real. I wanted to say I know what it’s like to lose yourself. To feel… — Misha Horne Copy Share Image
“I hadn’t been anywhere like this since high school, since Brett’s house. It had been gross with excess, but this place was fucking hideous.… — Misha Horne Copy Share Image
“My wires weren’t just crossed, they were tangled up like a box of Christmas lights, all knots and broken glass, blinking and shorting out… — Misha Horne Copy Share Image
“I jammed it down in my gut alongside all the other guilt I was already packing, put on my rock star face, and pretended… — Misha Horne Copy Share Image
“I pushed myself up off the floor, grabbing the boxes and dishes and cups, trying to make myself look busy instead of terrified.” — Misha Horne Copy Share Image
“I can sense it on you right now, you know. Paycheck to paycheck, that’s a disease, and you have it. You’re literally worthless. And… — Misha Horne Copy Share Image
“I gave my reflection another onceover, pretending I wasn’t gauging hotness levels because that did not fucking matter. Still, I ran my hand through… — Misha Horne Copy Share Image
