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184 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 11, 2015
“Fuck that noise.”
Perfection. Jameson was simply too big, in every sense of the word. On top of her, inside of her, his hands against her. He took her over and overflowed her and she spilled over with him.
Absolute perfection.
This is how we make love.
“Jesus, Tate, I tell you to shut the fuck up, and you start screaming even louder,” Jameson hissed, pounding into her.
Wanted to pick her up and carry her away from it all. Shield her from her horrific family. Do bad things to her in bed, so she could forget about the bad things in real life.
I wanted to save her. Took me all these years to figure it out, but even back then, I wanted to be her prince on a white horse.
Sex between them had always been different, special, because of the innate trust they had in each other. Jameson liked rough sex, liked to have heavy hands and heavier words. He wasn't practicing some “art form” or “lifestyle”, he just got off on calling a woman a cunt and grabbing her throat. Tatum wasn't looking for a “master” or a “sexual advisor”, she just got pleasure of out of being called a cunt and someone grabbing her throat.
... They were just two people screwing. Fuck safe words – they didn't need them, because it wasn't a game for them. Jameson would never hurt her, and Tate knew that. It was trust. It was sex.
It was making love.
"Jameson,” she said his name slowly as she flipped to the last page.
“Yes?”
“Is this what I think it is?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you think it is. Your brain is one of the weirdest fucking places I've ever been, I have no clue what you're thinking,” he laughed."
I wanted to save her. Took me all these years to figure it out, but even back then, I wanted to be her prince on a white horse.
“Jameson,” she breathed, laying down on his chest. “Even when you piss me off, I am still happier with you than I have ever been in my whole life.”
“Jesus, you really do want to be me tonight,” he snorted.
“Don't I look the part?”
“Not quite as good looking as me, but almost.”
“God, you're such a dick.”
“Good thing you love dick.”
“That's not even funny.”
“Yes it is.”
“Why do you always take my food?”
“Cause it tastes better when I steal it from you,” she teased.
“God, I almost prefer you when you're depressed and crying.”
“Fucker.”
“Always.”
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I know, baby girl.”
“And you love me, too.”
“More than words can express.”
“Good. Now get off of me, you weigh a ton.”
Well, the scariest thing to me is the idea of someone reading my work and going “ew, that's weird!”, so I decided FUCK IT. I'm gonna write it EXACTLY how it comes out of my brain, EXACTLY how it comes out of Jameson's mouth, and if people don't like it, then they don't have to read it. It was the best decision I have ever made, writing this story was such a catharsis, such a joy. It sounds cheesy, but it's the truth.
So read what you want, write what's in you to write, and fuck anyone who gives you crap about it. I can't imagine a bigger waste of time than criticizing someone's work just because it scares me." - Stylo Fantome