Kathryn Smith

“His hope wasn't lost, it was buried, and somehow Prudence Ryland made that old grave seem much more shallow than it once was.”

“I want to take you until you are boneless. I want to drain you of strength. I want to fill you and take my fill of you. My dear, Ivy, I want to devour you. I want your juices on my toung, flooding my mouth. I want your wetness on my face, your scent covering me. I want your blood in my veins.”