“The elevator dinged again, letting them off on their floor. As they exited, Chase still pressed against Jamie's front, they heard the man on the elevator mumble, "Damn kids. Smells like sex in here.”

“Chase tugged my hips flush against his, and I felt a hard length between us. It was only a bulge against the leather of his pants, but it was enough to get me wetter than a rainforest between my legs.”

“Empty Sex is like Pringles: You can eat million of them, but they never really fill you up. If you want to be truly satisfied, you have to eat real food.”

“You bite your lip, and I want to take that lip into my mouth and suck on it like popsicle. I want to lick your lips and bite them and kiss you until you're fucking lost and gasping and puddled on the floor.” Well...shit. I want that.”

“You don't ever really let go, though. You don't stop. You don't stop hurting, you don't stop loving. It doesn't go away, you just keep living and eventually shit gets pushed into the background of your life so it's not consuming you every day. And then one day you know you're okay. It still hurts, you still miss that person. And yeah, you forget the details. The way she smelled, the way her mouth tasted, how her skin felt, the sound of her voice. It's almost like a different life, a different person that loved her, was with her. But on a day-to-day level, you know you're okay. Sort of.”

“I am not a woman, I am a thing. An object, a servant for their needs. Sex is a tool.”

“It helps - ""No it doesn't. It just pushes it away temporarily. Just like the booze.""But I need - ""You need to let yourself feel. Feel it, own it. Then move on.”