You Made Your Own Jean Shorts...with A

Even If I’d Been Wide Awake, I Knew Dimitri Would’ve Taken My Suitcase Anyway. That’s How He Was, A Lost Remnant Of Chivalry In The Modern World, Ever-ready To Help Others.

I Figured I Could Read More Than Five Pages Tonight Since I'd Been Deprived For The Last Couple Of Days. When I Finished The Fifteenth, I Discovered I Was Three Pages From The Next Chapter. Might As Well End With A Clean Break. After I Was Done, I Sighed And Leaned Back, Feeling Decadent And Spent. Pure Bliss. Books Were A Lot Less Messy Than Orgasms.

I’d Seen Him Fight Before, But It Never Got Old. He Was Captivating. He Never Stopped Moving. Every Action Was Graceful And Lethal. He Was A Dancer Of Death.

There Was A Look Of Woe On His Face That Was Almost Comical. Raids, Bullets, Criminals...no Problem. A Missing Duster? Crisis.

Well, If The Excitement's Over, I Think I'll Take A Bath.' 'wow. The Harsh Lifestyle Of A Succubus. I Wish I Had Your Job.' 'hey, Our Side's Always Recruiting. You Might Need To Be A Little Prettier To Be An Incubus, Though. And A Little More Charming.' 'untrue. Mortal Women Go For Jerks. I See It All The Time.' 'touché.