Kitty French Famous Quotes
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You want me. And I'm here, now, saying I want you too, saying I love you, and I don't know where the hell it'll end up, but I'm brave enough to say that right now you're my everything. You've opened my eyes, and my body, and my heart so much more than I knew existed, and you make me feel beautiful, and protected, and adored, and I don't think you could do all of those things if you didn't love me back.
He's a fucking fool"Sophie shrugged" title="Kitty French Quotes: He's a fucking fool"
Sophie shrugged and looked out of the window.
"Maybe. He's avoided having sex with me for more than six months now."
"I'll say it again. He's a fucking fool."
"Yes."
...
"Would it help if we fucked?
Sophie shrugged" width="913px" height="515px" loading="lazy"/>
Sex is natural." He trailed one finger down the valley between her breasts to her navel, making her stomach muscles jitter in response. "And fucking beautiful." His clear blue eyes held hers. "Now, forget everything else," he said, "And Get. On. That. Bed.
She didn't laugh, just dropped the bag inside the door. You asked me to stay with you until Sunday. I'm all yours.
I've quit.
I didn't get your resignation letter. Invite me in.
You look utterly fuckable.
The amused heat in Lucien eyes scorched her. In that moment she wasn't ordinary Sophie Black, builder's PA and invisible wife. She was sexy and sophisticated Ms. Black, able to stop Viking sex-gods in their tracks with just a few little words. She noticed the way Lucien's throat worked as he swallowed before he spoke.
You start in the morning. Nine o' clock sharp. Don't be late, Ms. Black.
I could love you, Dylan Day."
He kissed her again, open-mouthed, his hands in her hair. "I could love you too.
He screwed the glass dildo as deep as it would go inside her and traced letters on her clitoris with the tip of his tongue.
P ... she shuddered
R ... she arched
I ... she moaned
N ... she gasped his name
C ... "Lucien ... "
E ... she came
S ... and came
S ... and she came.
What happens in Paris stays in Paris, and all that. Just sayin'.
There's absolution and purity to fucking that strips people back to their primal core.
Lucien drew female eyes wherever he went. It wasn't just his height, or his Viking beauty, or his broad shoulders. The man exuded lust from his very bones: he emitted sexual charisma on a frequency that no woman could be expected to ignore.
Would it help if we fucked? Sophie laughed and put her hands to her cheeks in shock.
Don't lie to yourself because you feel guilty, Sophie. He's cheating, and you deserve better. You deserve to be adored, and you deserve to be fucked until you can't stand up. Sophie stared at him and her insides twisted with desire.
I want sex with you now, but that doesn't mean I'm going to want sex with you for the rest of my life.
To the moon and back, English.
You're wasted on the occasional bout of missionary sex with a disinterested man.
You're not leaving me." Her voice steadied as she took the bag from him and stepped back. "I'm leaving you.
I don't love you," he ground out, biting her lip.
Sophie wound her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair as she kissed him gently. "I don't love you either," she whispered, holding him close and rocking the last ebbs of pleasure out of him. "I don't love you either.
This was goodbye. The best, longest, sexiest goodbye kiss ever ...
Her feisty interludes turned him on, and he wanted to push her into situations that encouraged the tigress in her to come out more often. The girl shimmered with untapped sexual potential. Her dick of a husband obviously wasn't able to see what he could see ...
You asked me in Paris how many
women I'd loved. I said one. I should
have said two." He cupped her cheek,
his thumb rubbing over her bottom lip.
"As a child I loved my mother, and as a
man I love you.
He wasn't a man given to romance, but the perfect weight of this woman in his arms and the majesty of the skies above them filled him with an unexpected sense of peace. Moments later he carried her
She might not be able to fix the
past, but she was willing to spend a
lifetime showing him what love could
be: beautiful not ugly, uplifting not
destructive, and more precious than
diamonds.
... then she was Sophie Black, the girl who surprised him. He'd never met anyone quite like her before. On first glance she was quiet and unassuming, but scratch the surface and she was spectacular.
The girl was eighty percent kitten and twenty percent lioness, and he considered it his mission to make her roar.
The egg was vibrating, and not the egg on her plate. Astounded and flustered, she picked her fork up swiftly ...
You deserve better. You deserve to be adored, and you deserved to be fucked until you can't stand up.
The man was a walking, talking poster boy for his own sinfully sexy empire.
That's excellent, Sophie." He cleared his throat and snapped the vibrations off, giving Sophie a couple of seconds to gather herself together as he returned to his seat. "I think we can send this one to production," he said.
It was sex, it was fucking, and it was making love. It was life in glorious technicolour, full of promise and joy. The best of all worlds, with the best of all men.
Lucien was a whole lot of trouble because he made her want things she couldn't possibly have. He made ordinary life feel pale and insipid, a watered-down version of the existence she'd tasted that had him in it.
I don't want lunch, because I'm not hungry," he said. "And I don't want anger management classes, because right now angry is all I have," he spat. "And I don't want condoms, because it seems that I'm incapable of fucking anyone but you.
When, where, how. I need details.' She sipped her drink. 'Unless you were actually shagging and he yelled it when he blew his load, in which case feel free to lie.
They were lovers, except without the love. It was about sex. Amazing, fantastic, not-ready-to-walk-away-from-it-yet sex.
Disbelief. Pain. Resolve. Christ, she was exquisite. He was going to screw her ten different ways until she couldn't stand up, and then send her home to wipe the floor with that man.
Theirs was a closeness that went way beyond physical proximity. She was under his skin. Moving closer to his heart.
He just didn't know it yet, because no one else had ever found the pathway before.
Will you kiss my envelopes before you mail them?"
"Will you give me my job back if I say yes?" He gestured towards the doorway to her old office.
"It's all yours.
You said something to me" ...
"I know" ...
"Don't say it again ... Because I won't say it back" ...
"I know that too
I love every beautiful fucking inch of you, Sophie Black.
Some time just after one and somewhere in between awake and asleep, Sophie moved beneath him again. Tangled limbs. Entwined fingers. Damp cheeks. Bruised hearts.
I know this kind of talk makes you freak out, but I'm gonna say it anyway," Dylan said, laughing softly. "I fuckin' love you, man."
"Jesus Christ," Lucien muttered,
... These days, their bond ran so much deeper; as close as brothers, the best of friends.
He met Dylan's eye in a moment of silent acknowledgement, then shuddered despite the warmth of the evening. "And now I feel like we just had sex.
I don't think I'm going to let you wear knickers again this week." The man was lethal. This was all a big game to him, and he was a world-class player.
Seducing Sophie had been a mutual pleasure and she'd proved herself an excellent and very willing pupil, but when it came to freeing her he'd failed dismally. He'd freed her from one cheating man, only for her to fall in love with another who couldn't or wouldn't give her what she deserved.
It's my downfall. I like sugar. I like fast cars. I like sexy men.
He was the most enigmatic man she'd ever met. On the one hand he was a Thor-like sex warrior, perfectly at home slinking around the debaucherous outposts of his commercial empire, and on the other hand he was a man who craved his solitude and privacy and loved this rare and extra-ordinary setting. It was a heady combination, and it left Sophie wanting very much to know the roots of this man who existed between the two extremes.
He hadn't intended this to happen in quite such a vanilla way, but one look at Sophie's vulnerable face and his hunter-protector gene had kicked in hard. Most of all he'd wanted to settle her, to comfort her, to gentle rather than shock her into submission.
No. No, you're not like him," she spat. "You're your very own brand of fucked up, Lucien.
I don't want to feel this Sophie. Like I've led you on, or like I can't be with anyone else. "
"Lucien, you said yourself that you don't want to be with anyone else!"
"Yes, and you have no idea how much that fucks me off. Don't you get it, Sophie? I don't want these feelings, or these cravings." He splayed his hand on his chest. "It's not who I am.
Okay, okay. No kissing. No touching. No flirting. He touched his fingers to his forehead in mock salute.
Pleasure so exquisite that her entire body thrummed with it, and emotions so expansive and consuming that she didn't know where Lucien ended and she began.