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Quote by Alison Atlee

“[Mr. Jones] was uncommonly bad at seduction if he though talk of common capital and incorporation would do the trick, but she could think of no other reason he would lavish her with such time and care. Except the impossible one: No motive but to help her. Such purity didn’t exist, though. If it did … If it did, he’d be a dangerously good seducer.”

Quote by Alison Atlee

Book:The Typewriter Girl
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The Typewriter Girl

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Alison Atlee

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“He was disgracefully handsome, the flight attendant decided, with the kind of face you saw in old black-and-white Hollywood movies. And, oh, that British accent! Even better. Nadia loved British accents. He was so courteous, such a gentleman, that she wondered if he might somehow be connected to the royal family. Just thinking about it made her pizda tingle. "Then perhaps I can fetch you a blanket." "A glass of wine, if you have it." "Of course, sir. Red or white?" "Always red." Safe watched the shapely bottom swing pertly away toward the galley. With blue baby-doll eyes and wide pouty lips, she was an adolescent wet dream of a sexy stewardess, long-legged and busty, extravagantly curvy in all the right places under the snug red Aeroflot uniform.”

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Book:The Color of Light
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“He was disgracefully handsome, the flight attendant decided, with the kind of face you saw in old black-and-white Hollywood movies. And, oh, that British accent! Even better. Nadia loved British accents. He was so courteous, such a gentleman, that she wondered if he might somehow be connected to the royal family. Just thinking about it made her pizda tingle. "Then perhaps I can fetch you a blanket." "A glass of wine, if you have it." "Of course, sir. Red or white?" "Always red." Rafe watched the shapely bottom swing pertly away toward the galley. With blue baby-doll eyes and wide pouty lips, she was an adolescent wet dream of a sexy stewardess, long-legged and busty, extravagantly curvy in all the right places under the snug red Aeroflot uniform.”

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Book:The Color of Light
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“He has all the beauty of an angel--- a chiseled face and a faint glow. But there's something wrong about him. A rawness that never melted down. His smile is crooked, forged by a false sense of happiness. Though, he is undeniably enthralling. Golden hair and sharpened bones. Fox-like eyes that trail my body as if it's for show. Silently undressing me. Ready to pounce. In another world, I might have let him. I smile, fawning naivety as he takes a step closer. His red lips part with a grin as he brushes a weft of hair over my shoulder. I shiver as he trails my bare skin. His touch is delicate, careful not to startle me as my breathing hitches. Slowly, his fingers trace the vulnerable part of my throat, grazing gently instead of drawing blood. He's careful in his movements, taking his time, awakening my senses until I let out a kitten cry. His hand perches beneath my chin. Our eyes lock, trapped in honeyed heat, as his thumb strokes the fullness of my bottom lip. "You're immaculate," he says. His voice is lush and dark. I tense, trying not to tremble as his tether possesses me. It becomes harder when he whispers, "I have never seen such a beautiful girl." Electric shovers rattle my bones. My knees slacken, and he stabilizes my balance. I refuse to give him the upper hand. I press my palm against his chest, grazing right where his blouse parts. My eyes turn doe-like with wonder, honoring his beauty and tending his fragile ego. "Are we to be married now? I can't wait a moment longer." He grins. "Soon, coquette." I move my hand up to his neck. Not slow and delicate like he was with me. But feral, delicious, wanting. "I need you." I nearly pant. That's it. That's enough to make him tick. He drinks me in like nectar, a sweet ambrosia brewed just for him. "Come," he says, offering his arm.”

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Book:Dance of the Starlit Sea
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“With a wicked smirk, I part the Devil's lips. He invites me eagerly with want, drinking me in like salted chocolate, savoring my blood on his tongue. He thinks he has me. My muscles tense when he weakens, my power growing as his desire burgeons. It shifts too suddenly. I gasp as he grabs me by the waist, pulling me firmly against his body. His hand coils around my neck, lifting my lips to his. My eyes shut instinctually, tasting the blood and honey on his tongue. The taste deepens, layered like spiced sangria. I want more. I want it so much, it consumes me. I press into him harder. He's ravenous, squeezing me, threading his fingers through my hair, ruining my curls. No. My eyes burst open, but I don't shatter his fantasy. Not yet. I come up for breath as his lips find their way to my neck. I tilt my head back, glancing at the stained glass ceiling. The upper hand is mine again when I push him against the stone wall, furiously feeding him kisses to satiate his hunger. He grabs my leg, pulling it around his waist. I balance myself against the cave, and with my touch, crystals start to sprout. Citrine, ruby, and amber. They form into points, my own glittering weapons. Once they're not long enough, I snap a piece off. The Devil mistakes my destruction as rapture. I play into it further. Grabbing him by the collar, I spin us away from the wall, continuing our tango over to the balcony. Wisps of my gossamer gown pool around my thighs as he explores me. My fingers twist into his hair, pulling, stringing up his appetite until he begs for more. And, once I have him truly at my mercy, I jab the crystal straight into his back.”

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Book:Dance of the Starlit Sea
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