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Trust me, true? Butch barked a laugh. Last time you said that i ended up with a vampire cocktail, remember?

J.R. Ward

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J.R. Ward
Ended
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Laugh
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Trust
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Lasts
Butch
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Life has gotten in the way of our life.
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This was the gift of recovery, he thought. The ability to be here in this moment with the female he loved and be fully aware, fully awake, fully present. Undiluted.
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All kings are blind. The good ones see this and use more than their eyes to lead.
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Tore up from the floor up. Followed by a big outtie. John Mathew
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...He palmed up the life Alert. Death Alert was more like it: Help, I haven't fallen and I'm standing up-can you come and rectify this problem? - Isaac
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But then, gifts are like beauty, are they not. It is in the eye of the recipient that they find their seat, not in the hand of the giver.
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John? As it was dark he whistled a what. You are such a male of worth, you know that. You really are.
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G'on now.' he murmured with that Southern drawl. 'Lie on back and let me take care of you. I promise to go slow...real slow.' - Issac Rothe, Crave
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If the Angels won, the entire Earth would be nothing but one giant Christmas frickin' morning, a choking wave of happiness and warmth and caring and sharing taking over everything.
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Marissa laughed, utterly delighted with her mate. Later. Food first. Butch settled back immediately, like she'd called his lust to a heel and it behaved because it wanted to be a good boy. As she left, the cop's eyes followed her with rank hunger and adoration. V shook his head. You are a total sap.
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As always, Blay was the anchor who kept him from being swept away.
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It was the wife, John thought. And she was giving this tough guy a tongue-lashing. And the man was taking it. Okay. I love you. Bye. Tohrment flipped the phone closed and put it in his pocket. When he focused on John again, he clearly respected his wife enough not to roll his eyes and make some macho, shithead comment about pesky women.
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No stonger allies no greater friends no bigger fighters of honor could a king behould then these assembled afore me mine brothers mine blood
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I could take you down on this sidewalk and be up that skirt of yours in a heartbeat. And you wouldn't fight me, would you? No, she probably wouldn't. Wrath and Beth
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Turned out Qhuinn was a snuggler. Who knew—and how fabulous.
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Are you wet for me, Mary? I think you are. I think you're covered with honey.
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I feel like I am wlaking down into a porn movie V mutteres as they took the steps with care. Wouldn't that require more black candles for you, Zsadist cracked.
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Tell you what, you let me go, and I’ll ask you plenty of questions about your race. Until then, I’m slightly distracted with how this little vacation on the good ship Holy Sh*t is going to pan out for me.
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If you eliminate all possible explanations, then the impossible is the answer.
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