Quotes about cherise-sinclair

Am I your dom, little rabbit?”“Yes.” Her red-brown brows drew together. “What’s wrong?”“Not a thing.” He gave her a faint smile, and his gravelly voice deepened. “I thought I’d tell you we’re getting married next month.”~Nolan and Beth~

Have you gone crazy?".

It's a girl thing, trying to change ourselves as if we can change our lives too.

You see, when you're excited, your body has trouble telling the difference between pain and pleasure.

He liked to touch, she realized. In bed, he kept his arms around her or a hand on her like now. The way he played with her breasts, or just touched her, or ran his hands over her body, made her feel so...so beautiful, Desirable.

the easiest way to keep a woman over your shoulder is with a hand on her ass, and the other between her legs.

Some man would come to her room. Maybe she would hesitate, and he'd grab her, pin her to the mattress, force her to cooperate.

Master, don’t. Please.”“Please is a great word–and I intend to please. Me, for sure. Maybe even you.” Lindsey and deVries

That’s means you’re mine. Mine to care for.” He ran his thumb over her full lower lip. “Mine to fuck.” He leaned forward, his mouth an inch from hers. “And mine to protect. Don’t forget that.” Zander deVries

I wouldn't do this if i didn't care, but you mean everything to me, and if this is what you need, then this is what you'll get. But we're damned well going to work on changing this association between caring and spanking.

MacKensie, much as men don't like to share this fact, we rarely die from not getting off.

She couldn’t take her eyes from the dancing flame. No, this was so wrong. Candles should be used for meditation…for romance. Or on a birthday cake at least.So where was the cake? The present? The song? As he stepped closer to her—as the damned flame got way too close—she started singing. “Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me…” Marcus paused, looking at her in disbelief. See. I knew he didn’t have a sense of humor. “Happy birthday, dear Gabi”—she lifted her head and blew out the candle—“hap

God, you’re uptight. Did the aliens maybe forget to remove your anal probe?

Awww, that's sweet. Nothing says ‘I love you’ like a well-made implement of pain.

Oh lord and master. High muckety-muck.

You mean you’re not God? Nooo, say it isn’t so!

She took a second look at him, at his fancy tailored suit. Dark gray with pinstripes. Oh please, like she’d really believe he was a dom at all? “Gabrielle Anderson. Are you sure you’re Master Marcus?”“Why would you think I’m not Master Marcus?” he asked. Well, good grief. She waved a hand at him and kept the duh from slipping out. Just in case he really was Master Marcus. Maybe he hadn’t changed yet or something. “The suit? Where are your leathers or latex or…biker jacket or vest? And black? Did

You little subs make me nervous. Being around you is too much like walking into a room filled with tiny kittens and trying not to step on one.

You dickweed! Are you always stupid, or is today a special occasion?

You know how really big guys are always nicknamed Tiny?" She didn’t wait for any response, afraid she’d chicken out. "Guess that would make you Master Munchkin, huh?

Toys? When a man—a dom—said toys, he didn’t mean stuffed animals or baseballs.

Chocolate's better than sex any day.

I'm not likely to forget someone slapping my butt with a big piece of wood.

What we have here is a failure to communicate.

You dumb-ass ape, get your hand off me. What—are you the first in your family to be born without a tail?

By the way, you have a fine ass. Sir.

I felt sorry for myself since my wimpy dom can’t catch a snail crossing the sidewalk.

Okay, you’re older. Not much, really. And considering you love staying in shape and I refuse to run, we’ll probably get all old and crippled at the same time. If not, then I’ll learn to use a cane, and I’ll get to beat on your ass for a change.

And since I am a man, I would appreciate it if you would cry for us both, gatita.

So, so sorry. Really sorry. Master. Sir. Emperor of the world. God of the universe.

A good relationship is a two-way street, gatita. Submitting and serving is equaled by a master’s need to take control, to protect, to make someone happy.

If you keep all those thoughts inside, your brain will explode.

You want to count, Gabrielle? One! She sucked in a breath, mad enough the words slid right out. You asshole, one!

An older dom snorted. “Atherton uses the word escort loosely. The last time someone messed with a trainee, he threw the guy across the bar. Strolled over, waited for the idiot to stand up, punched his lights out, and dragged him by his jacket collar out of the place. Escorted him, my ass. Didn’t even wrinkle that fancy suit.” He took a sip of his beer and added, “Atherton is invariably polite, but nobody in their right mind fucks with his trainees.

Darlin’, I wasn’t just a Boy Scout, I was an Eagle Scout.

You know I still don’t like your…hobby.”“Didn’t ask your opinion.” Jake rubbed his aching ribs. “If you want mine: anyone using the missionary position twice in a row should serve time.

And he calls it playing? Like, whatever happened to chess? Or cards? Or tag?

You have a piercing.” “So I do.”“Didn’t that hurt?”“A bit.

Dammit, why isn’t there a book with the answers in it?

Any ham-handed idiot can make a woman scream. I prefer to assess…responsiveness.

If you are with me long, I will begin to spell Master with two M’s.

Hey, I see people manacled to log walls all the time. You bet. It’s a popular sport in Bear Flat. Gonna replace fishing soon.

If the goddess—and that would be me, by the way—is displeased, you’ll get bats in your hair and mice in your boots.

You are such a sleazeball, Rhodes—walking, talking proof of why siblings shouldn’t marry.

The fun we’ll have tonight is called figging.

A girl could get to hate Doms.

New Englanders could be so brusque.

what you need and what you want aren't the same things,