His pointer finger circled my puckered love cave. “Are you ready for this?” he mewled, smirking at me like a mother hamster about to eat her three-legged young.
I’m not even going to talk about the puckered love cave. I want to talk about this:
“Mewl” means to cry weakly or whimper, like a baby. That means he cried weakly like a baby, while smirking like a carnivorous female hamster. That’s not even bad erotica; that’s like a sexual encounter with The Crypt Keeper.
My vagina just detached and ran under the bed.
I’m pretty sure that’s like not even in the book.