Stormie

“What are you imagining? Your expression is filthy.”

“Strangling you. Bare hands.” I can barely get the words out. I’m huskier than a phone-sex operator after a double shift.

“So that’s your kink.” His eyes are going dark.

“Only where you’re concerned.”

Both his eyebrows ratchet up, and he opens his mouth as his eyes go completely black, but he does not seem to be able to say a word.

It is wonderful.”
― Sally Thorne, The Hating Game

“Tits are important, I don't know why you are fighting me on this. Cupcakes too. I love those little fuckers.'
'You are so fucking weird, dude.'
'Let's go, asswipe.”
― T. Gephart, High Strung

“He advances like a floating Dracula. The menace is ruined by the sporting-goods-store bag loudly crinkling against his leg. A shoebox is in it, judging from the shape.

Imagine the wretched sales assistant who had to help Joshua choose shoes.I require shoes to ensure I can effectively run down the targets I am paid to assassinate in my spare time. I require the best value for my money. I am size eleven”
― Sally Thorne, The Hating Game

“I want to know what’s going on in your brain. I want to juice your head like a lemon.”
― Sally Thorne, The Hating Game