Clio Evans

You want to blame your hangups on fear? Get the fuck over them. Go to therapy. Do something that won’t make your masculinity easier to break than glass. And don’t,” I growled, “don’t fucking waste my time. I came today because I was hoping to find love. If I just wanted dick, I’d open up my top drawer.” I shoved him back and turned, digging for my keys in my bag.

Patience was a virtue, but it was also a bitch.

My favorite part about making someone cum was when they cried out for god, knowing that they were being fucked by the devil.

“Grim,” I whispered.
“Didn’t they worship you back then?” he asked.
I shook my head, feeling a stab of pain in my chest.
“I would have.”