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Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

Book by Dolores Lane · 20 quotes · Smut, Dark Romance, Smut Books

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Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick Quotes

“My love, I can see it so vividly―you torturing your husband. What was it that Daisy Scott did first? She cut off his fingers one by one? For ever daring to put his hands on her? You would look so pretty with blood all over your face. But you would look even prettier completely bare for me, taking me inside. Letting me worship your body and make you bleed as I dig my nails into your silky skin. You would love that. I promise you.”

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“Tell me, Lucy. Did your husband ever spank you?” Dubh asks as he gets on his knees behind me, still not relenting with the gun. “Yes,” I choke out. Painful memories fill my head and a tear slips out of my eye, landing on the ground. He hums as if he already knew the answer well. “Your husband only did it to bring you pain. To force you into obedience. I will never do that, sweetheart. I’ll bring you pain, but I’ll show you there is ecstasy to be found in it. So what I want you to do right now is bring your fingers to your sweet little pussy and push them inside. I am going to spank you and you are going to come.”

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“He’s right. I’ve lived like a ghost. But even after everyone took turns in trying to blow out my fire, I somehow still managed to find a lighter. With that last bit of fight inside me, I wrote my novel. And look what has come of it. A psychopath in the skin of the most beautiful man I have ever seen. One who is torturing my husband as we speak. A bad man who murdered at least three men and was in the fucking mafia. And he wants me.”

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“I like being rough with you, Lucille, as you already know by now. And after getting to know you, I know you like it, too. I also know that I’ve terrorized the crap out of you and stepped over the line many times. But now that you’ve let me in, I need you to feel safe with me.” “Safe with you…” she says with a nice dollop of sarcasm. “Coming from my psychopathic stalker.” “The irony isn’t lost on me.”

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“And I don’t care that you’re in the mafia. I don’t care that you’re a murderer and my stalker. I don’t give a shit about your past any longer. It doesn’t matter to me that you spent ten years in the nuthouse. I. Don’t. Care.” She takes my face between her palms and her nails dig into my skin. “I know I should run far away from you. But damn my heart. Damn my soul and my legs and my feet… Because all I really want to do is run toward you.” Her voice breaks. “Damn you, Dubh Burton. Damn you…”

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“Tell me about your day.” She huffs. “My day? Well, let’s see…” She takes a dramatic pause. “I buried my husband this morning. There’s that.” “And how was that?” “Riveting,” she hums with a nice dollop of sarcasm. “Good thing I’m taking you out tonight then. A lovely occasion for a celebration, wouldn’t you say?” She looks at me, gaping. Then she offendedly asks, “Celebration?” “Tell me this wasn’t one of the happiest days of your life.” She stares back at the road through the window as she contemplates. And then a loud snort comes out of her pretty mouth, which she quickly covers up with her hand. “Don’t you dare silence those pig-like snorts of yours. They’re like music to my ears.”

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“She has been all I’ve craved for what seems like an eternity. A long-awaited burst of life in a heart that’s been dead for so long. The fire to my wick. A throbbing pulse inside my veins. She’s beauty, in and out. Her name, Lucille, translates to light, and there has never been a name more suitable for anyone. She’s a beam of brightness in an otherwise dark and depressing world. Darkness and light. Dubh and Lucille. She pulls me with her into her light and I show her that there is beauty in darkness.”

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