Lyric

“Ah, man,” he sighed, shaking his head slowly, mournfully. “I’m not sure I can stick my dick in a woman who doesn’t even know who John Bonham is.”
“‘Stick your dick in’?” I asked, my brows probably touching. “Did you actually just say that?”
“Make love. I meant make love … of course. I would never just stick my dick in you. I would make mad, passionate love to this sweet, sweet body of yours for days, no, weeks. It would be beautiful, pumpkin. There’d be little angels, and birdies, and you know … all just hanging around, watching. Perverts.”
― Kylie Scott, Play

“Hands down, that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. I can pretty much feel my legs just falling wide open for you right now.”
― Kylie Scott, Play

“We’ve broken my bed,” I said, stating the obvious.
“In battle, sacrifices must be made, pumpkin.”
― Kylie Scott, Play

“Hello, Anne’s clitoris. It’s me, Malcolm, your lord and master.”

“Oh, god, no.” I covered my face with my hands. “Please don’t.”

“Shh. This is a private conversation.” He brushed hot, feverish kisses up and down the lips of my sex. My stomach tensed so hard it hurt. “Look at you all pretty, pink, and excited. Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.”
― Kylie Scott, Play