Alaria Thorne Quotes

The doubts, strong as they were, were rousing more than hesitation. Her eyes drifted closed, fingertips sliding over the silk and lace panties she wore.
Larry could never know how many times they'd been pulled aside in a rush of unbridled lust, how the side had been carefully stitched after they'd been ripped from her in a bar bathroom a few years ago by a man whose name she didn't even know. She found her fingers at the seam, her breath shallow and shaking as she remembered the way his rough, callused fingers felt inside her, the ache of his teeth at her shoulder, the sound of his growling moans as he gripped her hair and plunged deep into her throat. She could still smell the whiskey on his breath, the stifling cloud of smoke that permeated every part of the hole-in-the-wall bar

It seemed some pulp-novel version of a European hub, equal parts Renaissance-age Florence and modern day Paris with a heavy helping of Las Vegas and New York - at least, that was the way she thought of it. It was so far beyond description and unrelatable to any other place that she grasped desperately at straws trying to puzzle out how she'd tell the tale she'd no doubt live tonight.

The club was only dimly lit aside from the flashing strobes and rotating beams casting their vibrant glow over the pulsing, writhing crowd. The heat of the club was a stark contrast to the chill of the air outside, and she pulled slightly at the sweater, cursing her modesty for quite possibly the first time.