L.A. Witt Quotes

“If I knew how a lot of my relationships would have turned out, I never would have gotten involved in them ... And I would have missed out on some of the best times in my life.”

— L.A. Witt

“Every time I look at you, I'm either so pissed I can't stand the sight of you or so fucking horny I can't take my eyes off you. I don't think I have to tell you which I prefer.
I swallowed. "So which is it now?"
I'm looking at you aren't I?”

— L.A. Witt

“I rolled my eyes. "Do all narcotics officers lack basic human
compassion, or were you just not hugged enough as a child?"
Trust Me”

— L.A. Witt

“Then why the fuck did you still shoot me?"
"Because I fucking well wanted to.”

— L.A. Witt

“Dylan looked at me and matter-of-factly said, "My Dad's smart. Boyfriends are way better than girlfriends." I laughed. "Oh really? And why is that?" The kid wrinkled his nose. "Because girls are gross.”

— L.A. Witt

He grinned, making sure to flash his straight, gleaming teeth, every last one of which I wanted to knock out of his head

— L.A. Witt

The sex was amazing. And the man made me trip over my own feet. And he had a smile like Ctrl+Alt+Delete on my brain.

— L.A. Witt

We burned the midnight oil making love, even if it was just kissing and touching, for hours. It could be a single candle, Fourth of July fireworks, or anything in between.

— L.A. Witt

I want you, Spencer. Your trust. Your surrender. Your courage. That's all ... strong stuff. Felt like you were made for me
never freaked out, no bad habits from some arsehole that I had to train out of you. You went into it with everything, all out, and there was nothing you wouldn't have given me if I'd asked for it. That's huge for me, Spencer. I've never really had that, and now that I've had it, I don't want to lose it. I don't want to lose you, Spencer.

— L.A. Witt

“The tiny focal points of pain still glowed on his nerve endings, like stars coming into view one by one in a dark, bare sky. One by one-in the middle of his buttock, just below his collarbone, on the inside of his thigh-more stars came into focus, each glowing brightly at first before settling into the same intensity as the ones before, slowly forming a constellation.”

— L.A. Witt

“The world is full of dirty bastards, and I am their king.”

— L.A. Witt

He'd never had sex like this before. Usually it was sweat and panting and driving each other insane until they came. And then maybe they'd collapse together if they liked each other well enough, and maybe they'd catch their breath and do it all over again until sleep took over and tomorrow hurt. This ... this was all that and more. Every touch, every kiss, every frantic, trembling movement, added up to something he'd never imagined. This wasn't the cooperative pursuit of pleasure and orgasms. They held each other, clawed at each other, like they thought they might actually start fusing together. Molecule by molecule, cell by cell, not just getting under each other's skin but becoming part of each other. One thing that could only become two again if it was broken.

— L.A. Witt

“He didn't want to leave, and yet his chest hurt because this felt like goodbye. Like a real goodbye. The kind people said when they knew they'd never resurface. The kind that happened in this brutal, unforgiving world where a man, upon realizing there was a price on his head and a red dot on his chest, would often just surrender. Perhaps out of honor, perhaps out of the realization that there was no escape, so why run? Perhaps out of relief, as if this were the closest to suicide their god would allow. Make it quick. Make it count. Ciao. Why the hell did this feel like that? But”

— L.A. Witt

The water temperature finally rose, so I stepped in, and he followed me. It shouldn't have surprised me that our primary focus wasn't on getting cleaned up. We let the water run over us, and there was some soap involved, but mostly, we just lazily made out while we ran soap-slick hands over each other's bodies. I was too exhausted to get turned on, and he probably was too, but this? This was absolute heaven. Wet, slippery skin against wet, slippery skin, our mouths moving together like we planned to do this all night-it didn't get any better than this.

— L.A. Witt

“If I was going to shoot you, we wouldn't be having this conversation. What's your name?" The Italian lifted his head enough to meet Sergei's gaze. "Who wants to know?" Sergei rolled his eyes. "The guy who's going to decide whether you wake up tomorrow in a hospital, a jail cell, or a morgue." He”

— L.A. Witt

“So, anyway, what I was saying about society putting us into little categories," he said. "Everyone wants to label everyone else. Straight. Gay. Bisexual." He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I fuck who I want to fuck, I love who I want to love, and the rest of society can suck my left nut if they don't like it.”

— L.A. Witt

“They got ninjas working as strippers in this town or something? Well.”

— L.A. Witt

You have to take risks if you want to master a craft. Taking risks means screwing up. Show me someone who's never made a colossal mistake, and I'll show you someone who's never created a masterpiece. If

— L.A. Witt

“He didn't need to tell his uncle he'd sworn off clothing forever. There was no way it would be any less painful to dress than it had been to undress, and dressing meant eventually undressing anyway, so he was going to be a nudist for the rest of his life.”

— L.A. Witt

I want you. I'm supposed to want you dead, but I just want you. Dom

— L.A. Witt

“Tangling up in bed like this, naked and hard with a predator's mouth against his and a killer's hands all over his skin, was deliciously dangerous-if this was what it was like to dance with the devil, then Dom hoped the music never stopped playing. He”

— L.A. Witt

He'd never been this close to someone, this wrapped up in something so needy and honest and raw. Death was waiting outside for both of them, but at least they finally got to know what it was like to feel this alive.

— L.A. Witt

They spoke three languages between them, and there weren't enough words to convey what they'd take to the grave, what they'd had a chance to taste before fate inevitably closed in. Dom

— L.A. Witt

“Your book does not exist until you've written it.”

— L.A. Witt

Look at it this way: We're two people who happen to have a lot in common, a connection most people would kill for, we trust each other, and we have the kind of sex that people base pornos on. The fact that we're both men really doesn't make a difference, does it?

— L.A. Witt

We barely touched, I barely breathed, and time barely moved. Even my heartbeat, which thundered in my ears, seemed to slow down until every. Single. Beat had time to echo into silence before the next one took its place.

— L.A. Witt

“Sergei took off his seatbelt and climbed between the seats into the back. "What are you doing?" "Putting myself where I can shoot them. Obviously." "You might want a seatbelt." "Can't shoot with one." "And if I wreck?" "Don't wreck." "Sergei,”

— L.A. Witt

“Now, they should have been in bed, making out and groping until one of them finally came up for air long enough to put on a condom. But they didn't move. They stood in the middle of the room, skin to skin, arms around each other and kissing like ... like ... Like this. It was as if no one had ever given Dom the memo about the difference between fucking and making love. About how to kiss a one-night stand versus how to kiss a boyfriend. Sergei”

— L.A. Witt

“Sergei knew as many ways to tease a man as he did to kill him. Tonight, he didn't care about impressing him with any hip-centric sex voodoo. The only thing that mattered was getting as deep inside him as he could, fast and hard. Sex wasn't an art form tonight-Dom had tapped into some primal, animalistic side of Sergei, and there was no reining it back in. Not until he came. And Dom came. And they both came again.”

— L.A. Witt