Ivette

“David had apparently been busy writing more songs about the glory of doing his wife.
Ah, true love and stuff.”
― Kylie Scott, Play

“Soooo.” Mal smacked a kiss on the top of my head. “You weren’t just a little into me. You’re my biggest fan. You love me.”
“I don’t love you.”
“You totally love me.” He gave me a squeeze. “I’m your everything. You’d be lost without me.”
― Kylie Scott, Play

“It’s fate, Anne. Written in the stars. Leave it the fuck alone.”
― Kylie Scott, Play

“Ah, man,” he sighed, shaking his head slowly, mournfully. “I’m not sure I can stick my dick in a woman who doesn’t even know who John Bonham is.”
“‘Stick your dick in’?” I asked, my brows probably touching. “Did you actually just say that?”
“Make love. I meant make love … of course. I would never just stick my dick in you. I would make mad, passionate love to this sweet, sweet body of yours for days, no, weeks. It would be beautiful, pumpkin. There’d be little angels, and birdies, and you know … all just hanging around, watching. Perverts.”
― Kylie Scott, Play