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e713d07
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"He was taking another hit from his short-and-squat of Goose when his eyes skipped to the arched doorway of the room. Jane hesitated as she glanced inside, her white coat opening as she leaned to the side, as if she were looking for him. When their eyes met, she smiled a little. And then a lot. His first impulse was to hide his own grin behind his Goose. But then he stopped himself. , he thought. Jane gave a short wave and played it cool, which was what they usually did when they were together in public. Turning away, she headed over to the bar to make herself something. "Hold up, cop," V murmured, putting his drink down and bracing his cue against the table. Feeling like he was fifteen, he put his hand-rolled between his teeth and tucked his wife-beater tightly into the waistband of his leathers. A quick smooth of the hair and he was . . . well, as ready as he could be. He approached Jane from behind just as she struck up a convo with Mary--and when his pivoted around to greet him, she seemed a little surprised that he'd come up to her. "Hi, V . . . How are--" Vishous stepped in close, putting them body to body, and then he wrapped his arms around her waist. Holding her with possession, he slowly bent her backward until she gripped his shoulders and her hair fell from her face. As she gasped, he said exactly what he thought: "I missed you." And on that note, he put his mouth on hers and kissed the ever-living hell out of her, sweeping one hand down to her hip as he slipped his tongue in her mouth, and kept going and going and going . . . He was vaguely aware that the room had fallen stone silent and that everything with a heartbeat was staring at him and his mate. But whatever. This was what he wanted to do, and he was going to do it in front of everyone--and the king's dog, as it turned out. Because Wrath and Beth came in from the foyer. As Vishous slowly righted his , the catcalls and whistling started up, and someone threw a handful of popcorn like it was confetti. "Now that's what I'm talkin' 'bout," Hollywood said. And threw more popcorn. Vishous cleared his throat. "I have an announcement to make." Right. Okay, there were a lot of eyes on the pair of them. But he was so going to suck up his inclination to bow out. Tucking his flustered and blushing Jane into his side, he said loud and clear: "We're getting mated. Properly. And I expect you all to be there and . . . Yeah, that's it." Dead. Quiet. Then Wrath released the handle on George's harness and started to clap. Loud and slow. "About. Fucking. Time."
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everyone
mated
shellan
popcorn
rhage
jane
wrath
vishous
kisses
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J.R. Ward |
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bf81d56
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Oftentimes she wondered what had happened to super 8. Sure, it made perfect sense that nobody wanted the hassle of spending money on a three-minute cartridge of film and threading it through a projector, but though digital cameras were convenient and cheap, Mandy didn't care. Super 8 had integrity, it wasn't just nostalgia, it was art, it was history, it was a little recording medium that somehow possessed the power to evoke lost memories, to turn back time, and there was something dazzling about waiting excitedly for a reel of film to come back in its yellow and red Kodak envelope, eating buttered popcorn while the projector paraded life's best moments, and capturing something beautiful in only three minutes.
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photography
integrity
future
future-shock
home-movies
kodak
projector
retro
super-8
vintage
popcorn
digital
lonliness
movies
nostalgia
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Rebecca McNutt |
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396ea11
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"Man, Rhage is playin' with fire," Butch said as he started to rack up the balls. "I give Fritz thirty seconds before he's--Here he comes." "I'm going to pretend I'm not here." V took a swig of his Goose. "Me too." While they got busy grabbing balls, Fritz came steaming across the foyer like a missile seeking a heat source. "Watch your ass, Hollywood, true?" V muttered as Rhage came over with a basket of popped-and-fluffy. "It's good for him. He needs the exercise--Fritz! How are you, buddy?" -Butch, Vishous, & Rhage"
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fritz
playing-with-fire
popcorn
rhage
vishous
haha
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J.R. Ward |