Hayle Whitley

“I’m desperate to give my body to the man who may very well be the one who takes my life.
And right now, I don’t fucking care.
Because in Smoke’s arms, I’ve come alive.”
― T.M. Frazier, Up in Smoke

“I don’t want gentle. I just want you,” she whispers. “All of you.”
I growl and then my lips are on her. She wants all of me, so I give it to her. All six foot three of barren soul and misguided morals. All of my broken, black heart.
All of the nothing I am is now hers.
She’s my victim, and I’m her tormentor.
She’s my prey, and I’m the predator.
She is mine to do with as I please.
And what I please right now is to make her come. Make her scream my name. make her feel every inch of my desire for her and show her she’s always belonged to me.
I want to see her tears of pleasure. I want to hear her screams of pain. I want her moaning my name.
I want it all.
I have it all, and right now there’s no going back. I’m going to take it. Take HER.
Because she’s mine.”
― T.M. Frazier, Up in Smoke

“I’ll love you with everything I have and all that I am. It ain’t much, but it’s yours if you’ll let me give it to you.”
― T.M. Frazier, Up in Smoke

“There ain’t many people out there who have my respect. Respect needs to be earned. Preppy’s got mine. The man might have a case of verbal diarrhea there ain’t no cure for, but he’s been through hell and back. He’s been tortured and brutalized the likes of which most folks can’t begin to imagine. Most men, the strongest of men, in both body and spirit would’ve caved after that.
Not Preppy.
Not Samuel Motherfucking Clearwater.”
― T.M. Frazier, Up in Smoke