"You are so bad, Jon. Why do I let you rile me up as you do?" "Because I'm just so devilishly handsome and shmexy." His Irish accent slipped into his ...one. Every time he did such a thing, Samantha knew that Jon was thinking quite the opposite. Or just thinking in general, which was quite a revelation. His voice returned from the Twilight zone with a small chuckle. Then a rather long sigh. "Hey, I kinda gotta go. Chores and crap. Ugh." "Oh, sure thing. We can talk later. Bye!" "Bye." Samantha's. It was obvious of course why she would want him. Least when your laying on your back staring upward at a specimen of his dimensions it was. Toned, muscular, handsome, and a precious sweet heart with all the loyalty of a newborn puppy, the mentally stability too. He was the kind of man who would spit in his best friend’s face for driving his girlfriend home. I gripped his foot with both hands as he tried again to smash my skull. I don’t even know why this man is attacking me. She came to me to. More

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