“…his eyes looked different outside. Nearly blue, like a thick, antique glass bottle.” — Cara McKenna Copy Share Image
“Still. It’s not all red. I’m not a total whore. Just a partial one. Just a splash of whore.” — Cara McKenna Copy Share
“It was what she'd been doing in every aspect of her life lately, wanting to hole up in the backseat and not be asked… — Cara McKenna Copy Share
“That gooey stuff inside a Boston crème donut. That’s what you smell like. Now I’ll get a hard-on every time I eat one.” — Cara McKenna Copy Share
“Show me,” I said softly, and stroked his hair. “Show me what it feels like, to be wanted by a man, the way you… — Cara McKenna Copy Share
“My flatmate’s away for the weekend. If you fancied meeting against every wall in the place.” — Cara McKenna Copy Share
“Okay. We've got about twenty minutes before I get mean again.' She laughed, relieved the night was still young, 'What are you, some kind… — Cara McKenna Copy Share
“My mouth could deny my interest in Kelly all day long, but my pussy didn’t lie. He felt like more than a single person.… — Cara McKenna Copy Share
“It’s a sign of weakness to feel stuff, in prison. To care. To admit you’re lonely, or sad, or that you’re aching for somebody.… — Cara McKenna Copy Share
“Whatever happened to you being Mr. Control, and me just keeping my pretty mouth shut?” “Guess I like what comes out of your mouth,… — Cara McKenna Copy Share
“After a moment’s hesitation, he (Jeremy) asked, “Would you ever ask her to do this for you? Bring another woman in…” He stopped speaking… — Cara McKenna Copy Share
“kitchenette, tidy but cast in a sickly glow by the fluorescent bulbs. Dennis looked about fifty, with gold-rimmed glasses and a professorial goatee, and… — Cara McKenna Copy Share
“Whores wear read… Pink’s just red with some cream mixed in, you silly slut.” — Cara McKenna Copy Share
“Caring was all about surrender, in the end. The opposite of control. The difference between strangling someone and embracing them.” — Cara McKenna Copy Share
“That’s where I want to be,” he whispered. He stroked my clit with his slick fingers, then slipped back inside with a moan. “You… — Cara McKenna Copy Share
