As she reached back for the buckle, her fingers met Mr. Meisner’s. She jumped. “I can do this... Sir.”“Ah.” He brushed aside her fingers. “I see you’ve at least remembered the sir.”“One always calls gentlemen that, just as you--”With only a rustle of cloth to warn her, his teeth met in the lobe of her ear, sending a spark into her middle. Like the melt of winter snow, she felt heat pool in her lower body. Her fingers curled against her collarbone where her hands still rested either side of her neck.“I’m not a gentleman, Faith.

Then there were her rules, rules that stated quite clearly that he was a ‘no-go’ area. She drew a deep breath and tried to make a decision in keeping with her rules. But the words would not come. She could not decide to give him up. Her inner self would not even contemplate it. Somehow, he had touched her soul in a way that she could not explain adequately. She felt a link there that was too real to consider severing. Kate felt the anguish of this conflict between her morality and her acceptance of the bond that did exist between them, despite her incredulity and despite her objections.

The truth is I’m a chicken shit coward who’s afraid of a girl like you. When I’m with you, I want things I never thought I’d be able to have, or deserved, and that scares me a little. I’m just a regular guy who works in a bar and you’re this beautiful person who shines brighter than the stars.I think I just made up some cheesy poetry so I’ll stop while I’m ahead.If you feel like talking, give me a call. ~DSophie sat down on the floor and, through blurry eyes, reread the note so many times she had it memorized. She was going to do more than give him a call.

She was exquisite. She tasted, smelled, and felt right in every way to him, but as they collapsed into bed, sated and finally ready to sleep, it was the shy girl who had entered his arms. It was she who caressed his cheek while kissing him deeply and softly, her delicate fingers exploring his arms and back, sending shivers through him that always hit his heart. The china doll. It was she who fell asleep upon his chest with her arms wrapped around him. There was a want inside her, and he had felt it in every way. The last thought of his night was simply that he wanted to be the one to know her. To free her.

She reached out, her fingers hesitant. The deer—Knox—tilted his head down, letting her touch his antlers. Her hand trembled slightly as she caressed the boney protrusion. The ivory tines were warmer than she thought they’d be, a living extension of the man inside. She petted his pelt next, charmed by the coarse fur and the feel of his muscles bunching and moving underneath.Sitting back, she winked up at him. "You probably get this a lot,but…nice rack.”The deer flashed back into a man who tackled her onto her pillows with a wolfy growl. “Always gotta be the smartass, don’t you?

I don’t want to be just your friend, Willow.”She took a step closer, her body pressing suggestively up against his.“Then what do you want to be, Re?” she asked in a husky whisper.Holding her stare, his eyes narrowed, begging to understand what she was doing to him.“I want to be your lover.”“Such things you do say, sir,” she said playfully, trying to pull away from his firm grasp.Re’s fingers tightened around her wrists. Never before had a woman refused him, not even through all the games they played with him. That this one was daring to do so, both angered and hurt him.

The sight of a beautiful, naked Amy sliding her finger into her mouth gave Sam a little jolt, she saw. The front of his jeans instantly appeared fuller. “What have you got baby?” he asked, feigning nonchalance and failing. His eyes had taken on a predatory gleam.“Chocolate sauce.”He quirked his eyebrow.“I stole it from Janie.”Sam’s mouth twisted. “That’s Janie’s homemade chocolate sauce?”“Yup.”“She’s going to kill you,” he said as he crossed the threshold.“At least I’ll die happy,” she responded with a devilish grin.

She felt the cold blast from the sterile air conditioning on her bare arms and thighs, as she ambled down the center of the shopping complex's ground floor.The scene was a swirl of candy bright lights--the Victoria's Secret fuchsia signboard, signboards which lured one to purchase "confidence," or "sexual appeal," or whatever it was that was being advertised--the fluorescent lights in each store, contrasting with the shiny, black-tiled walls and eye-catching speckled marble tiles on the ground.One could lick the floor--the tiles were spotless, clean like the fake air she was breathing in, like the atoms and cells in her that were decaying in stale neglect.

Nicolai finally understood why every experience with Julianne felt new. He was born to create. Every breath he took fueled that need. He never believed a woman could give herself to him so sincerely that she could be molded into the living expression of his imagination. Julianne could. That fundamental truth made her his living, breathing ideal.As he stared into her eyes, his heart accepted the truth of her and his conflicted mind found peace in that truth. He was the artist. She was his medium. It wasn’t a metaphor. Together, they could create something so beautiful that anyone who saw it would be forever changed.Forever inspired.The true meaning of beauty.His Beauty.

Oh, why not? You only live once.Isabella pulled out a cigarette as she sauntered over to him. Her sex god turned, his glowing eyes burning right through her again, but her alcoholic armor held fast.“Hey, handsome. Got a light?”He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You can’t smoke in here.”“What are you going to do? Arrest me.”“Do I look like a cop?”Liquid fire eyes drifted over each feature of her face. She actually felt their warmth skimming over the arch of her brow, the line of her nose, the borders of her lips. They parted as those copper eyes returned to hers.“No, but you do look like someone who knows his way around a pair of handcuffs.

Ned looked to DeVere. "You are the master of mayhem. Any brilliant ideas?""If we want him to leave the gate, we must provide proper motivation," DeVere answered."Such as?" Phoebe prompted."Let us keep to the basics, my pet. Men are primarily moved by either their stomachs or their cocks. If we cannot tempt the one, it must be the other."Ned glared. "What are you suggesting?""Our little chambermaid can take the blighter off by offering him a hand job.""The hell she will!" Ned barked before Phoebe could answer for herself. "Think of something else!""Come now, Ned. She'll be well compensated for her trouble. He laughed. "Hell, for a thousand, I might be tempted to do it myself."A WILD NIGHT'S BRIDE

She remained in this attitude, clearly inviting him to touch her. Taking a position of advantage, he rested his right hand on her buttock. He considered a moment then raised his arm and brought his palm upon her, delivering a sharp spank. He felt the acuteness of it on his own skin. He gave her another, watching his hand in the mirror opposite, as it made contact. The slap caused her to flinch, but her heard her sigh also: the timbre of which was now familiar to him. He paused, allowing the sensation of the sting to sink in before giving her more. She remained folded over for him, eager for more of his burning smacks upon her flesh. The peach of her cheeks rippled each time under the impact of his blows.

You intend to keep me confined in here with you for three days?" His voice was low and ominous."It doesn't have to take three days," she said, "It just depends how long it takes for you to come to your senses.""My senses?" he shook her so hard she thought her teeth would rattle. "It is you whose mind is disordered if you think you can tame me like some pet! Is that what you think, Vesta? That you can somehow turn a man like me into your little lap dog?""No," she said, as earnest as she had ever been in her life. "I could never imagine you as a lap dog. Ever. You are a Mastiff. Big, powerful, dignified, brave, and yet gentle." She nodded with a look of self satisfaction. "Yes. Most definitely a Mastiff." from THE VIRGIN HUNTRESS

If you’d rather skip lunch, that’s fine with me. I’ve got some things to take care of anyway before I can leave the store to Robin for the weekend.”“I don’t want to skip lunch,” he bit out. “I’m starving.”Her temper got the better of her. “Fine, but if you plan on snapping at me the whole time then I’d just as soon you eat alone.”His gaze darkened. “I’m not snapping.”She poked him in the chest. “Yes, you are.”Leo started to speak, then paused and let out a huge breath. “Sorry. Damn, I’m just having one of those days.”Amanda smiled and patted his cheek. “You can tell me all about it over a bowl of fettuccine.

Did you really think you could quit?" He moved closer, his steps slow, purposeful. "Just fax me a damned piece of paper and I‘d be forced to let you walk away from me?""You don‘t have a choice." Lydia swallowed the lump in her throat and moved around the chair. Putting furniture between them seemed like a smart idea. "I quit, end of story.""The hell it is," he growled as he stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. "I‘ve given you space, Lydia, but it‘s time we talk.""There‘s nothing to say."He pointedly glanced at the chair and quirked a brow. "Afraid, little Lydia?"Afraid of her own ability to keep her hands off him, yeah. "You don‘t scare me, Dane. You‘d never hurt me.""Then quit acting so skittish and come here.