Fuck. I don’t remember her being so scary. She’s got those momma eyes down to a T, yet, somehow...on her, they are hot as hell. The term M.I.L.F. now makes all the sense in the world.

Taking her tiny hand into both of mine, I lift it to my chest, placing it right over my racing heart. “You feel that?” I rasp, swallowing hard. Her head bobs. “That’s yours. It’s always been. So, the next time you try to convince yourself that you know what’s best for me, I want you to remember what you feel when we’re together.” I touch the pads of my first two fingers to her neck, feeling her pulse flutter against my skin. “I feel it, too.

I want the strings. I want the ball and fucking chain. I want to be so tied to you that you can’t ever slip away from me again.

I own your balls, huh !" She grinned, laughing." I'll have to remember that the next time you give me any shit." (El Diablo)

Okay, first of all, I didn’t sleep with you to make amends. I slept with you because I wanted to.”

He still didn’t say anything, and she pointed at him again. “And you know what? It was your own damn fault. It was those jeans you wear, and the tool belt. It was the size of your hammer!

Sounds like you kids have some talking to do. I'll be eavesdropping from the kitchen.