“No, I want to take you out back and beat your fucking head on the floor.”

“If you don’t back away from my girl, I’ll rip out your fucking throat. Right here on the dance floor.”

“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.”

“Okay. Take a peek, but I swear if you try anything funny, I’ll beat your head in with my flashlight.”

“I have no desire to sleep with you. I want to fuck you. And there is no such thing as perfectly good sex.  If it’s “perfectly good,” I mock in falsetto, “he should be shot in the head and put out of everyone’s misery. Sex either blows your fucking mind, or it’s not good enough. You want me to blow your fucking mind, Ms. Lane? Come on.  Do it.  Be a big girl.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? I just got back and I can barely stand on my own. What do you want me to do? Bleed on them? (Fang)”