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Pardon My Frenchie

Book by Farrah Rochon · 8 quotes · Verbal Salt, Hot Sex, Adult Romance

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Pardon My Frenchie Quotes

“Ashanti hooked her hands behind his neck, pulled his head down, and pressed her lips to his. She was struck by how soft they felt. Never could she have imagined a hardened Army veteran would have lips that felt like brushed velvet; soft and supple and pliant. But then she realized she must have caught him off guard, because after a moment those gentle lips turned forceful, advancing with purpose as his hands came up to cradle her face. He parted her lips with his tongue and swept it inside her mouth, his tasting like sugary cupcakes they'd eaten. It had been so long since she'd felt this, the intense rush of intimately connecting with another human being. Of allowing herself to be vulnerable enough to share something so deep, so personal. She hadn't even been tempted to share this with anyone in such a long time. Until this man.”

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“Ashanti's pleasurable gasps and mewls weren't making it any easier. Every sexy little whimper was like an injection of fuel, accelerating his need to draw out that response from her over and over again. He wanted to make her cry out in pleasure, to make it so good that she wouldn't even think about limiting this to a one-time thing. Thad hooked his arms under the bend of her knees and angled her hips upward, his own limbs growing weak at the ecstasy of the shift in position it produced. He immersed himself in her, not just her body but her entire essence. He could feel himself becoming more enthralled with every delicious thrust. She intoxicated him. Captivated him, body, soul, and everything in between.”

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“Sit down," Thad whispered. When she did, he pulled her to the edge of the mattress and lifted both her legs, placing her thighs on his shoulders. Then he dipped his head and read her open with his tongue. She gasped, and sound sent a jolt of sensation straight to his dick. Fuck! He knew she would taste good, but this was so much better than good. He stroked her with his tongue, dragging slow, firm licks from her clit on down, and then back up again. Ashanti lifted her hips, grinding against his mouth as he continued to lap at her. Her cries filled the room, hesitant as they were. Thad wanted her to tell her to let go, to just give in and not hold back. But he didn't want to stop what he was doing long enough to speak. He caught her by the waist and held her down while he wedged his tongue inside her, driving in and out. Her legs moved restlessly against his shoulders, as if she didn't know what to do with herself. He tried to make out what she was saying between her breathy pants and realized it was his name. She was calling his name over and over again. Thad had never heard anything sexier in his entire life. It drove him to keep going until he felt her legs shake and tense. She came against his tongue. But instead of stopping, he ramped up the intensity, closing his mouth over her clit and sucking until she came again and again and again. Her body was limp by the time he lifted her legs and set them back on the bed. He stood. As he stared down at Ashanti completely spent on his mattress, Thad realized his ego would never need stroking again. "Are you okay?" he asked her. "I'm a puddle," she said. "Don't ask me to move, because I can't." Nope. No ego stroking necessary for the newly crowned king of cunnilingus.”

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“She made her way to her favorite area of the daycare. The smaller of the two playrooms' aesthetic was a nod to her Frenchie's white-and-black piebald coat, with splashes of purple to add a royal flare. Portraits of Duchess hung on the walls in gilded frames. Was it a bit over the top? Absolutely. But when it came to her baby there was no top. Seconds after she entered the room, Ashanti was bombarded by a cadre of feisty canines with Napoleon complexes. This is what she missed the most. Having to devote so much time to baking, she didn't get to play with the dogs nearly as much as she wanted to. "Hey, Lulu and Sparkle," she greeted the Pomeranians, giving each dog one of the dime-sized treats from her pocket. "And how is my favorite Chihuahua," she called to Bingo, who had been coming to the daycare since the first week it opened. She followed the treats with quick head rubs for each dog, then went in search of Duchess. "Where's my dog?" Ashanti asked Leslie, who was running the Parkers' Cavalier King Charles through the agility maze. Leslie gestured to cushioned mats in the corner. Ashanti walked over and found Duchess hugged up next to Puddin'. The two lay in a yin-yang pattern, with Duchess's head nestled against Puddin's chest, and her squat legs arcing around the puffy topknot atop the poodle's head. "Kara was right. You two really do need a room." At the sound of her voice, Duchess's stubby tail started wagging like a windshield wiper gone haywire, but she still didn't move away from Puddin'. "If you don't get over here," Ashanti said. She reached down and lifted Duchess into her arms. "Don't forget who keeps you in tiaras and rawhide," she said, nuzzling the dog's flat nose with her own.”

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“He stood to the side, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Ashanti pose in an airy, soft peach dress with a crown of colorful flowers propped on her head. Duchess looked as if she had been made for the camera in her matching peach tutu. Even a non-dog lover like him couldn't deny that she was cute with her flower crown askew on her head and her stubby tail wagging like a flag in a windstorm.”

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“She doesn't want to go either," Ashanti said. "Well, you make them," Anita said. "No. They're sixteen, not ten. The girls can decide how they want to spend their weekend, and no one will force them do anything they don't want to do." "You're behind this, aren't you?" Anita hissed. "You're turning my brother's children against me." Ashanti had heard this song too many times. She was not up for a repeat. "Look, I have to go. You have both Kara's and Kendra's phone numbers. Call and ask if they want to go shopping for plants with you. Like I said, they're old enough to make their own decisions. There's no need for me to play the middleman.”

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“Someone needs to be concerned about those girls." "Kara and Kendra know that I am only a phone call away." "Would you even answer the phone if you're laid up under some man?" Line. Crossed. Ashanti closed the distance between them, until she was barely a foot away. "Apparently, you didn't hear me the first time," she said. "Who I fuck is none of your business." Anita gasped, her head snapping back. Her mouth opened and closed but no words came out. "I should petition the courts!" she finally screeched. "Get those girls away from you!" "Try it," Ashanti said. "You shouldn't be raising my brother's children!" "I am tired of your bullshit, Anita. You hadn't talked to your 'beloved' brother for over three years before he died. I know my dad tried to contact you, and you ignored him." "He was not your father!" "Fuck you! He is my father. He loved me and treated me like his own flesh and blood. You, on the other hand, who actually was his flesh and blood, didn't want anything to do with him until he was buried in the ground. And all because he took your mother's dishes." "It was her wedding china and it was mine!" Anita said. "And it has nothing to do with you." "No, it doesn't. I don't care why you cut your own brother out of your life. What I do care about are my sisters. You talk about wanting to raise Kara and Kendra? You live an hour away and saw them five times in the first ten years of their lives. "I know what this is, it's guilt," Ashanti continued. "But you don't get to alleviate the shame and regret you feel at the way you treated your own brother by making my sisters' lives hell.”

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