“I’ll believe anything you say right now.”
Her laugh was light, teasing the head of my dick. “Believe it. Because if you weren’t?” That hand kept moving, slow and steady and hot. “I wouldn’t be on my knees before you.”
“No. You wouldn’t be,” I gasped, unable to keep my hands at my sides. I touched her cheek. Threaded my fingers through her silky hair. “It’s funny, though.”
“What is?”
“I may be the one standing, but it’s me who is still bowing to you.”
'Sessizlik sır saklamaz' diyor Uriah Heep bir şarkısında.
Asırlar öncesinden seslenen Mevlâna yankılar gibiydi:
'Dil, kelimeler pek çok şeyi açıklar ama aşk, üzerine kelimeler düşmediğinde daha berraktır.'
“A soul that’s sensitive, honest and deep feeling. A heart whose love is like a big golden sun that makes you feel so warm when you have it and so cold when it’s gone. It doesn’t matter who your father is or where you came from or what you look like. Here you are worried that I’ll leave when I see your real self when that’s the part of you that lets me stay.”
The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh. Let us not then speak ill of our generation, it is not any unhappier than its predecessors
What a waste it would be, I said to myself, to ruin our story by leaving too much space for ill feelings: ill feelings are inevitable, but the essential thing is to keep them in check.
I promised I would never let him be. I will keep that promise. He gave up his childhood, his soul, for me. I would do anything for him. He doesn’t even realise that Roxxane, as he calls her, is a part of that. He needs a weakness, someone he can share the world with, who can help him with his burden, or he’s going to burn out.
And I can’t lose him.
I’ll protect the crying boy with the blood on his hands and she will be the key.
