Quotes from Joanna Wylde

Marie: So why are you called Horse? Horse: Cause I'm hung like one.

Ruger's in there too. Hands covered in blood so they arrested him. He had to tackle your girl to get the gun away from her. She'd gone all Pulp Fiction on us, ready to defend you by killing all of us if she had to. Crouched over your body like Wonder Woman. Gives me a boner just thinking about it.

Jesus Christ… Thank fuck for that," Picnic said. "Nope, not Jesus, just a man," Horse whispered. "Although when women see my dick for the first time, they've been known to fall down on their knees and worship me.

Fuck, this is gonna piss you off and then you aren't gonna let me stick my dick in you," he muttered. "Do you have to be so crude?" I snapped. "Have you met me?" "Who says I'd let you do it anyway?" "Babe," he replied in a low, rough voice, raising his eyebrow at me.

Marie Caroline Jensen, will you do me the honor of being my permanent bitch?

Just 'cause I'm the picture of manly perfection doesn't mean I don't have a brain.

I'll be your old lady and I'll wear your patch. But if you ever let some bitch shove her tits in your face again, I'll shoot you myself.

I want you to be my old lady, babe. That's all I have to offer. I'm a Reaper, and this is my world. You wear my patch, you be my woman and I'll be your man. We take the good times together and fight through the bad times. No games. That's everything I've got and it's all yours if you'll take it.

Fuck, this is gonna piss you off and then you aren't gonna let me stick my dick in you," he muttered. "Do you have to be so crude?" I snapped. "Have you met me?

I think you're a raging asshole. Ruger laughed. "Yeah, well I think you're a bitch, but my cock likes you, so we'll figure something out.

Jesus, you piss me off," he murmured. "Good thing your cunt's so fucking hot." "Don't call it that." His lip twitched. "Good thing your vagina's so gosh-darned hot," he whispered. "Because I really, really want to stick my penis in it and have repeated sexual intercourse, bringing us to a mutually satisfactory culmination of our desires. How's that sound?

You're cute when you're pissed. Kind of like a wet kitten. Gets me hard.

Gonna fuck you now." "Sure," I whispered, dazed. "Not sure I'm gonna be able to participate too much, think you blew a circuit or something.

You're in my dreams every night. I wake up in the morning and all I think about is you in my house, you and Noah finally mine. My family. It's even better than ridin' my bike. I'm crazy for you, Soph.

Nothing says "commitment" like accessory to murder.

You deserve a man who'll fight for you, baby girl. You remember that, all right?

Horse: Fuckin' knight in shining armor. Might wanna trade your bike in for a pretty pink unicorn to ride, seein' as you're such a special snowflake and all.

You're all mine, babe. Knew it the first time I saw you. Couldn't give you up if I tried.

Love' is a word that doesn't mean a damned thing to me. 'Em,' though? That's a word that means everything. I'd die for you, babe. Kill for you, too. I stood up to my club for you and I don't regret any of it, not for a minute. So, you wanted to know how I feel? I don't even have a word for what I feel, sweetheart. I just know it's really fuckin' good.

So far as I knew, Hallmark didn't make a "Sorry I Interrupted Your Oral Sex" card.

It didn't occur to me that I was glistening with sweat and wearing a bikini top until they turned off the bikes, pulled off their helmets and turned to scope me out. To make my own personal cliché perfect, Def Leppard's Pour Some Sugar On Me blasted through the radio. I winced – I must look like a white-trash princess from hell, basking outside my trailer in a bikini to outdated butt rock.

What, surprised that the bone you're fighting over can talk? Well fuck all of you!

I can't imagine anything more fun that spending a holiday in the home of the man who wants me dead. Like our own fuckin' Hallmark movie, but with live ammo.

You want the freedom to sleep around. I'm not willing to give you that. I want more. Sounds like we have a fundamental difference of opinion here, and I'm not going to try and change you. But I'll tell you one thing, Ruger- I deserve to be with someone who gives a shit about me, as a person. Someone who values me enough not to fuck other women. I'd rather be alone the rest of my life than settle for what you're offering. Consider yourself a hell of a booty call, but that's it. We clear?