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Chad had prowled over to her, and she felt good caged in between those powerful arms, but when he kissed her flushed forehead and then the tip of her nose, she lost a little of herself forever.
J. Lynn
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It was a cookie, not a crack pipe.
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Easy for you to say. You’re the one who got plowed. I was doing the plowing.
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I'm beginning to think cookies is a code word for something else. Maybe it is. He tugged on my bag again as he took a confident step back, forcing me down another step. And just think about it. If cookie was a code word, whatever it symbolizes, it's been in your mouth, sweetheart.
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