Funny how being fucked isn’t nearly as pleasing as I remember.
T.L. MARTINFunny how being fucked isn’t nearly as pleasing as I remember.
T.L. MARTINCrawl inside this body, find me where I am most ruined – love me there.
T.L. MARTINHe doesn’t look at me like he’s owed anything. He looks at me like I’ve already given him everything.
T.L. MARTINGod, can he see what he’s doing to me.
T.L. MARTINShe wore her scars as her best attire. A stunning dress made of hellfire.
T.L. MARTINLike I’m a puzzle to be worked out and he’s got all damn day.
T.L. MARTINA mouse trying hard to come off as a lion.
T.L. MARTINArt is a private piece of me.
T.L. MARTINGifts are meant to be wrapped. Honestly, it’s basic etiquette.
T.L. MARTINI don’t deal with them. And if I don’t deal with them, I have no reason to learn their names.
T.L. MARTINI might have a fancy roof over my head and soap to wash away the dirt, but I’m still the same girl beneath. It’s important neither of us forget it.
T.L. MARTINHis eyes close, and he draws a long breath. When they open again, they’re colder than ever. “And that’s where you’d be disappointed, Lou. There is no good to be found in Death.
T.L. MARTINI never knew hell would be so spick-and-span.
T.L. MARTINLove me like my demons do.
T.L. MARTINHatred’s the fuel that keeps me alive.
T.L. MARTINCrawl inside this body, find me where I am most ruined – love me there.
T.L. MARTIN