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Quote by Elizabeth Hoyt

“You would do well to remember that you cannot physically stop a man from doing whatever he will with you. You need to be more careful." "Actually, I could've stopped you had I wished." She took a tiny but lethal-looking pistol from somewhere on her person and brandished it before his eyes. "But I didn't wish to prevent you from kissing me." Julian blinked and felt the foundations of his walls shake. She could have shot him. Could have intentionally wounded him or even killed him, and he would not have been able to prevent her. He had thought he was in control of their embrace, but in reality, it was she who had held the control all along. He closed his eyes--- for a second, only that--- and felt the thrill of the thought thrum through his body and harden his prick. Her control.”

Quote by Elizabeth Hoyt

Book:No Ordinary Duchess
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No Ordinary Duchess

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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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Book:No Ordinary Duchess
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“He could feel himself hardening. It was her certainty. Her calm acceptance that she was interested in such things. In sex. His cock jerked. He licked his lips. "And then?" "That depends." She smiled a secret smile. One that had been used by women ever since mankind had set foot on earth. "If I had a lover, I would tell him what I wanted." "Just like that?" he asked, his voice lowered. She nodded. "Just like that." "What if he didn't want what you want?" "Then he could say so, couldn't he?" She shrugged. "I suppose we wouldn't match. Wouldn't be compatible. In which case, I should have to find a man who was aroused by my needs." Her gaze dropped from his face, trailing slowly over his chest and belly to pause at the falls to his breeches. Where his cock strained to be released. She stared, and he'd never felt anything so erotic. Just her, frankly observing him. She must be able to see the outline of his erection even as it pulsed with new blood. His libido laid bare to her for as long she pleased. Every muscle in his body tensed, restrained, unable to move unless she said so. She sighed softly. "I'd search for a man who yearned for me and what I want. Who craved my touch. A man who put my pleasure above his own." Her gaze rose until she met his eyes. "Perhaps a man like you.”

Sex AppealElspeth De MorayDominatrixElsie And Julian
Book:No Ordinary Duchess
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“She'd never spoken so boldly in her life. Elspeth felt liquid warmth between her thighs as she watched Julian. It made her want to squirm. To press against herself. He was like a statue, a grave, beautiful Apollo, a god of music and poetry, who also held his sybil at Delphi jealously to his heart. Or so the myths said. But what if it was the other way around? What if the sybil, a mere mortal, drew the helpless god's powers to her and made him writhe in ecstasy as she proclaimed the future? Would that Apollo look like this just before he submitted to his oracle? Poised. Still. But almost quivering with strain?”

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Book:No Ordinary Duchess
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“She turned almost all the way around then and smiled at him, her cheeks flushed in the warmth of the fire, her pink lips curved sensuously, her hair falling like a red-gold waterfall over her shoulder. She might've been painted by Botticelli, a Venus emerging from the sea. "Yes, snails," she replied teasingly, oblivious to his thoughts. "Snails are delicious. One pokes them out of their shell with a little prick." He felt a tightening in his loins at the innocent remark. How could she not know the other meaning to the word? He muttered under his breath before he could censor himself, "I'd think a large prick would be preferred.”

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Book:No Ordinary Duchess
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“Her hair was a nimbus, escaping her loose braid and curling about her face and ears. As she leaned over her meal, her breasts pushed dangerously against her bodice, swelling as if they might escape confinement entirely. Her skin was luminous in the firelight, the palest of pinks, shining like satin. Julian could, if he tried, look at her without bias. See that she was plumper than was considered pretty. Shorter than was elegant. With a face that many would think ordinary. Someone who might be lost in a crowd. But to him she was the sun in the sky, shining more brightly than anything else on earth. He should be uneasy at such attraction. She was neither like the aristocratic ladies of London whom he encountered every day nor like the prostitutes he hired covertly on occasional nights. Elspeth was a woman apart, unique unto herself.”

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“Much of the Irish landscape is dominated by peat bogs; the anaerobic and acidic conditions in the densely packed earth mean that the past in Ireland can be subject to macabre resurrection. Peat cutters occasionally churn up ancient mandibles, clavicles, or entire cadavers that have been preserved for millennia. The bodies date as far back as the Bronze Age, and often show signs of ritual sacrifice and violent death. These victims, cast out of their communities and buried, have surfaced vividly intact, from their hair to their leathery skin. The poet Seamus Heaney, who harvested peat as a boy on his family’s farm, once described the bogs of Ireland as “a landscape that remembered everything that had happened in and to it.”

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Book:Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland
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