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Quote by Alicia Thompson

“Finally, he scraped just his knuckles along the pulsing core of me, the friction intensely erotic through the damp fabric of my underwear. My body jerked involuntarily at the touch, but then just as suddenly it was gone. He curved his hands under my ass, gripping my cheeks as he shifted me closer. I heard his sharp intake of breath at the contact, and I relished it, that sign that he was just as turned on as I was. He cupped my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers in a way that instantly made my breathing shallow. "I love how you fill my hands," he said. "I could just come thinking about your tits. I have come just thinking about your tits.”

Quote by Alicia Thompson

Book:Love in the Time of Serial Killers
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Love in the Time of Serial Killers

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Alicia Thompson

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“I pushed forward suddenly, the head of his cock teasing my entrance open in bliss. But a sudden jerk from Ryker left me painfully empty once more, and I whined in frustration. "Just say it," he teased. "Do you like it a little rough? All you have to do is say yes." Fine. Ass. "Yes," I hissed. "Yes, I do." Instant pressure hit me as he slid his length into me in one go. I was so wet, there was no friction stopping him as he filled me completely. Tight, hot, hard. I took in a sharp breath and he gave me a satisfied hum. "There now, that wasn't so hard," he mused. Smack. Ryker shoved into me just a little harder at the same time he smacked me right on the mark, and I screamed. I was so hot, and wet, and full of him that I could hardly keep myself from unraveling. Thankfully, his hands stayed firmly in place, helping to hold me still as he slid out again, only to thrust inside once more. "Fuck, Danica," Ryker rumbled. "Your pretty little ass is turning the hottest shade of pink." I was breathless as Ryker thrust again and again, pushing me higher and higher. Sometimes he would smack the mark again, and I was sure I would be feeling it in the morning but I couldn't bring myself to care. All I could care about was Ryker and what he did to me. I felt wholly and truly right with him, and my head was in a fog as the orgasm hit me hard. "Ryker!" I shouted as he thrust at just the right moment and all the tight muscles in my body came loose. Floating, floating and falling and clenching and dropping into a boneless heap. I was still reeling from the high he had started in me when I felt his hot release as well. Ryker came hard, gripping my hip as he shoved in as deep as he could. The hot, burning stretch of him shoving so hard coupled with the intensity of my own postorgasm shaking pulled another cry from me. When we were both spent and he was still over me, staring down in satisfied confidence, he leaned in with a light kiss. "Good girl, you take me so fucking well." My ass stung, I was filled to the brim, and I liked it. Releasing my hip, he slid out of me and I groaned at the fleeting feeling of fullness. When wetness trickled out of me, more than just my own arousal, I pressed my thighs together.”

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Book:Dirty Lying Dragons
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“With a noise of want, he cups my breast, then leans over it. His mouth is hot and wet, and I groan, arching into him as he sucks my nipple in deep. He releases me with a long satisfied lick and then does it all over again. "Macon..." It's a plea. For more, for it everywhere. He seems to know this because he looks up at me from beneath the fan of his lashes as his wicked tongue flicks over my other nipple. "It's my turn to play." Play he does, suckling my nipples until they're swollen and stiff and gleaming, then rubbing the flat of his fingers over the sensitive tips--- a slow, heavy circle. The action is so lewd, so basely sexual, that I writhe and moan against him, my leg hooking over his trim hips in an attempt to bring him over me. But he resists, his focus all on me. He makes his way over my body, learning every curve and hollow--- gentle little kisses of shuddering pleasure, slow wet kisses of greed. When he gets to the rise of my hip bone, he pauses. His big hands settle over my thighs, gripping them lightly. His gaze, dark and hot, meets mine. "Spread these thighs, Tot, and show me what I've been dreaming about for far too long." Slowly, I open to him. I feel the exposure in the soft stretch of my inner thigh muscles, the cool rush of air against my wet sex. My breasts jiggle with every shuddering breath I take. Macon's attention is rapt. He licks his lower lip, and I clench deep within me. With a groan, he lowers his head and kisses my pussy like a man deprived of air. Pleasure jolts through me, hot and sharp. I writhe against that slowly questing mouth of his. He fucking feasts, and I can't help but put my hand on the back of his head to hold him there, urging him to take more. God, the feel of his tongue sliding and searching; my clit becomes so swollen and sensitive I'm half trying to get away. But he won't let me. The sight of his broad shoulders between my legs, the fan of his lashes shadowing an expression of sheer greed, has me teetering on an orgasm. He stops to place a soft, firm kiss right on my clit like it's something he has to do, this bit of utter affection at the height of his lust, and I fall. Arching against the bed, I come and come. Macon kisses me again, his hand soothing my quivering belly in gentle circles, then rises to hover over me. "Of all the flavors you've given me," he says roughly. "That was my favorite." God. I lick my dry lips, my breath catching. "You can have a taste anytime you like.”

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“As he stroked between my thighs, he trailed his mouth up to my ear, told me with a voice like dark chocolate and smoke that I was everything he'd ever wished for, so perfectly soft and hot and slick on his fingers, how he'd tortured himself in his lonely bed thinking of my sexy little sounds, how hard he was going to fuck me once he made me scream. "Oh God, Leo, please," I begged as I pushed my hips into his hand. He groaned. "Yes, that's right. Let me make you feel good, love. Let me give this to you.”

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“Oh, Beatrix... I fell in love with you by words alone... but I have to admit... I prefer this way of communicating." She could barely speak, her mind dazzled by sensation. "It's still a love letter," she said, sliding her hand over the golden slope of his shoulder. "Only in bed." He smiled. "Then I'll try to use proper punctuation." "And no dangling participles," she added, making him laugh.”

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