What do you think?
Rate this book


128 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 1, 2013
“I feel like no one’s ever loved me before.”
“I’m sure they did their best, but you always belonged to me.”
“The truth is that I love you. The rest is unnecessary complication.”




"God," he said, "I have to have you."
"Take me. Own me. Use me. Pick a verb. Just please."
"Fuck you. I'm going to fuck you. That's my verb."
This one leads us to the conclusion of this series. I liked it but halfway though I just thought it got a little bit repetitive. It dragged a bit. I still love Jonathan and Monica and the ending … Wow, what is going to happen next?"Was there anyone before you?"
"You might have thought so at the time."
"I feel like no one’s ever loved me before."
"I’m sure they did their best, but you always belonged to me."

I DIDN’T REMEMBER ANYTHING AFTER THAT



"I am the owner and ruler of my mind.
I keep my own counsel. I decide how I feel.
I answer to no one."

"You're mine. No matter what happens.
Your pleasure and pain. Your skin. Your lips.



Months ago, I’d been flying, my own buzz filling my ears, with a destination in mind but a path not mapped. I had a job and friends and hope. One night, I spilled a drink. I touched a man’s hand, and I let him kiss me on the hood of his car. Some time after, I don’t know when, I fell into a web of lies and deceit. The harder I struggled, the more trapped I became. But who was the spider? Was it Jonathan? Or Jessica? And how could I get out of their fucking web?The angst has me at a breaking point.
My name is Monica. I stand six feet tall in heels. I am descended from one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century. I sing like an angel and growl like a lion. I am music. I am a goddess.JONATHAN DREZEN
"...Monica, it’s you. Being with you is all I can think about. It’s all I want. We are bound. I can’t be unfaithful to you any more than the sky can be unfaithful to the sea.”Everything in this book is more intense...
["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>


I was many things. I was submissive. I was masochistic. I was trusting. I was a sexual slave. But obedient? Not as much.
I forgave him despite my misgivings. I loved him just because I did. My heart wasn’t sensible or guarded enough. Not by a sight. I was a walking raw nerve ending of emotion, as if the years I’d spent away from men and sex had made me more emotional, more vulnerable, more foolish. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling like the victim of a crime of consent.


Put your hands up to the showerhead.” I did, and his followed the line of my arms, cupping his hands over mine, sliding them to the pipe that held the shower head. "Hold that." My arms up as if tied, he pushed me against the tiles and put one of my legs around his waist. He kissed me, hands at my ass, spreading me apart with his fingers. "Please," I said. "I want you."
"I’m yours." He thrust into me.



heartbreaking stars










Stars




“God,' he said, 'I have to have you.'
'Take me. Own me. Use me.
Pick a verb. Just please.'
'Fuck you. I'm going to fuck you.
That's my verb.”




He shifted closer to me and spoke in a whisper. “I’m taking you home, and I’m going to tie your wrists to the banister. I’m going to blindfold you, then I’m going to undress you slowly. I’m putting my lips all over you until you beg me to take you, which I may or may not do.”
“Jonthan,” I whispered, his name a white flag of surrender.
My name is Monica. I stand six feet tall in heels. I am descended from one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century. I can sing like an angel, and growl like a lion. I am music. I am a goddess
My name is Monica. I sing like an angel and roar like a lion. I am the owner and ruler of my mind. I keep my own counsel. I decide how I feel. I answer to no one.
That woman needed a cunt transplant.


