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Quote by Elizabeth Hoyt

“She swallowed and licked her lips. “It’s rather good.” He laughed breathlessly. Have care, part of his brain whispered. This way only leads to pain. But his c*ck was pressing hard against the placket of his breeches and he wanted to take her hand and draw her away to his rooms and keep her there until she learned to scream in pleasure. Until she screamed his name and no other.”

Quote by Elizabeth Hoyt

Book:Scandalous Desires
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Scandalous Desires

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Elizabeth Hoyt
Elizabeth Hoyt

Elizabeth Hoyt, born in 1970, is a renowned American romance novel author. Her works are known for their delicate emotional descriptions and captivating storylines, which have won her a large following among readers. more

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“She smiled as she poured tea into his cup. “I hope you find your rooms comfortable?” “Quite.” He took a too-hasty sip of tea and scalded his tongue. “The view is to your liking?” He had a view of a brick wall. “Indeed.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him over the rim of her teacup. “And the bed. Is it soft and… yielding?” He nearly choked on the bite of cake he’d just taken. “Or do you prefer a firmer bed?” she asked sweetly. “One that refuses to yield too soon?” “I think”—he narrowed his eyes at her—“whatever mattress I have on the bed you gave me is perfect. But tell me, my lady, what sort of mattress do you prefer? All soft goose down or one that’s a bit… harder?” It was very fast, but he saw it: Her gaze flashed down to the juncture of his thighs and then up again. If there hadn’t been anything to see there before, there certainly was now. “Oh, I like a nice stiff mattress,” she purred. “Well warmed and ready for a long ride.”

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“And how closely related to you is Cousin Beatrice?” Reynaud gave him a look. “Not that close. “Glad to hear it.” Vale dropped into a cushioned chair. “I hope she recovers fully so that you can then propose to her. Because I tell you now, matrimony truly is a blessed state, enjoyed by all men of good sense and halfway adequate bedroom skills.” “Thank you for that edifying thought,” Reynaud growled. Vale waved his glass. “Think nothing of it. I say, you haven’t forgotten how to treat a lady in the bedroom, have you?” “Oh, for God’s sake!” “You’ve been out of refined society for years and years now. I could give you some pointers, should you need them.”

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“He shoved his hips against her, reminding her of what they had just done, and said, “I had never bedded a woman before you. I made that plain. Did you think I let you seduce me lightly? No, I did not. You made a deal with me the moment you gave me entry into your body.” “I made no such deal!” Her eyes were angry—and frightened—but he would not let her make him back down. “Precious Isabel,” he whispered. “You made a deal with your heart, your soul, and your body, and you sealed it with the wash of your climax on my c*ck.” She blinked, looking dazed. He’d never used such words before, especially not with her, but their bluntness was necessary.”

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“But you must be awash in a sea of compliments, my lady. Every gentleman you meet must voice his admiration, his wish to make love to you. And those are only the ones who may voice such thoughts. All about you are men who cannot speak their admiration, who must remain mute from lack of social standing or fear of offending you. Only their thoughts light the air about you, following you like a trail of perfume, heady but invisible. (Winter Makepeace)”

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