Whatever demon invented stiletto-heeled boots should roast in hell...
She realised she was whimpering. Sir held her closer, his hard grip reassuring. This wasn't a dream; he really was here.
Am I your dom, little rabbit?” “Yes.” Her red-brown brows drew together. “What’s wrong?” “Not a thing.” He gave her a faint smile, and his gravelly voice deepened. “I thought I’d tell you we’re getting married next month.” ~Nolan and Beth~
You spanked me,” she told him. “I did.” He lifted her shoulders high enough to push a wedge pillow under the pad. “And I enjoyed it very much. You have a very spankable ass, no?
I’m a firm believer in equality at all times—” “At all times?” She glanced at the cuffs clipped to his leathers. “Why do I find that hard to believe?” And why the heck was she arguing with him. Mine, mine, mine. “At all times,” he repeated. “However, in the bedroom or in the club, I am a lot more equal than you.
She rubbed her cheek on his chest like a sleepy cat. “I like when you hold me.” Dios, she was going to break his heart. “I like when I hold you too.
That’s an awful lot of littles, don’t you think?” “Perhaps.” He displayed his hand. “Big.” He set hers next to his, so small and delicate contrasted with his thick, blunt fingers. Why did holding her fragile hand raise every protective instinct he had?
Slut. I’m a dirty- The sound of a hand hitting flesh was simultaneous with the shocking sting on her bottom. “Ow!” “You don’t think those nasty thoughts about my sumisita, Kimberly.
She was so light; he could hold her all night without a problem.
