Knock the bullshit off. Love her like crazy, endlessly, stripped of reserve and preservation. Be out of our fucking minds with love, lust and longing. Belonging. Knock on the door of uncertainty and bounce in anticipation of not knowing what resides behind it. Love whatever comes our way because it’s part of us. Love every ugly word and beautiful sigh.

Snatch is an ugly word,” I say. “Like it’s going to rip my dick off. Yeah—that is an ugly motherfucking word. But pussy? It just sounds soft. Cuddly. It sounds wonderful. Pussy. I love that word.

I didn’t know you were such a light-weight. I would have cut you off, Love Lump.”I make a face, digging the bottle from the couch cushions. “Light-weight? This motherfucker is gone. Light-weight. Come lay on me. I’ll slap your sweet pussy swollen.

I want to strangle my husband and slam the door as I leave. I want to leave a box of pasta on the counter with a note that says, “cook your own dinner and suck your own dick.

Of course he’s a Valentine. Look at him; he’s the pure definition of the word.

I fall against the wall with her, smothering her mouth with mine in an assault of lust, love, kisses. I want it all over her. To fill her with what I feel inside of me. A star? A wish? I wish we weren’t in the damn hallway of the store. I wish this were my bed and I could go slower. I wish time could cease and this moment could go on forever. I wish I could appreciate all of the sounds I’m regrettably swallowing down to keep us a secret. Her whispered pleas for more. More. I wish I had more.

I’ll take her home. You guys finish … whatever … you were doing.” She glances to me, a slight blush on her face. I tug Cash’s borrowed shirt down, hiding my red ass cheek. The spatula is still in his hand. He’s only wearing boxers. Dear Lord.

Mew - mew. Mew.” I jump back from her finger swipes. “I am fluent in pussy, but I have no idea what this fucking means, Georgia.

I worked in a grocery store my whole life, Honey-girl. I know what lonely housewives think of this.”“I meant the baby, Jerk.”“Attached to me.”“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”“Are you honestly asking me this? I know you’re not debating it.

I’m tickling a traced pattern over her bare hip. She’s pretending to sleep. Her smile is an idiot. A bad secret keeper.