Joey Ross

“I mean she doesn’t… understand the things…” No, he knew that wasn’t true. He knew she understood. Too much maybe. “I don’t want her in my shit, Mom.” “Oh honey, that’s too fucking bad,” she said matter-of-factly. “She’s not going anywhere, you can hang that up. And that woman loves you. I see it and I thank God for that! And do you know why?” “No, I don’t know why. It’s a mystery to me why—a fucking… oxymoron.” “Because she sees the good man in you, baby!” she squealed. “There is no good man in me,” he argued, his frustration mounting. “You’re stupid if you think you’ll convince her or me of that.”
― Lucian Bane, Beg For Mercy

“I fucking want to do things Mercy. I want your pleasure, but God, I want your fucking pain,”
― Lucian Bane, Beg For Mercy

“Thank you for loving me, Mercy,” he whispered, kissing all over her face now. “Thank you for coming into my life baby. Coming into that fucking darkness,” he gasped. “And taking my hand and walking me the fuck out,” he cried. “Thank you Mercy. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for loving me.”
― Lucian Bane, Beg For Mercy

“Make love to me. Please. I’m dying for it, for you. And therein lay the other major problem. His body was a wreck along with his mind. His past addictions were spinning in desperation and it was taking everything he had to keep from flying apart. The hunger to hurt and be hurt had never been more volatile and each second he didn’t connect with Mercy, it grew worse. But how exactly was a monster cyclone supposed to connect with an angel and not rip her apart in ways that made him feel vile and dirty? Fuck, he never wanted to feel that with her.”
― Lucian Bane, Beg For Mercy