Best 11 quotes of Elizabeth Safleur on MyQuotes

He brought his lips and hot breath close to her ear. “And once I have you bound and helpless, how should I take you? Missionary? From behind? Against the wall?” He pulled back to face her. “Or all ways?” She inched her legs further apart, and nodded.

Her inexperience demanding to be overturned intrigued him. She’d called him a gentleman. He was. When shown a door, he’d been taught to open it.

He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her into him with an unyielding strength. She’d been unmistakably seized.

I always wondered. If…” Her mouth was on autopilot. “If what, Ella?” “If I crossed your mind wherever you were.” “You don’t cross my mind, Ella. You live in it.” He tugged her closer to him.

I’m not a notch on a belt.” “You could never be a notch, London Chantelle. You’re the whole belt, sugar.

Most politicians’ voices dripped with air kisses and firm handshakes, affable and approachable, telling you what you wanted to hear. But Jonathon Brond had an edge. The man didn’t hide the power in his voice.

She’d never been the kind of woman who angered over being told what to do. She’d never felt unequal or demeaned in a submissive role, rather more like a helpmate and compliment to her lover. And, she’d never once asked why God had made her this way. She didn’t care why. She just wanted to play her part—and for her part to have value.

She wanted to know what his body would feel like under her hands. Her palms slid, almost as if under someone else’s control, under his jacket until she embraced his waist. His jacket, now parted on either side of her, left only a thin shirt and her dress between her belly and the ridges she felt across his abdomen. She was right about what she’d imagined under his suit.

The loud rasp of leather yanked through Carson’s belt loops sent her attention to his torso. “What are you doing?” London’s panicked gaze shot to his face. “I don’t have a collar on me.” “I am wholly disinterested in being collared.” “One weekend, London.” He grasped one of her hips with his free hand. “If you’re disappointed at any time, you can walk. I’ll never speak of it again. Our work together will go unaffected. No one—and I mean no one—but us will know.” “Would you put that in writing?” Her eyes filled with mischief. Priceless. London lured him toward a lightning storm. He could play. Hell, nothing appealed in the moment more than a weekend playing with London. Yes, this is what he wanted. Now he needed to know if she was willing. “I’ll do one better.” He snaked the belt around her waist until the leather rested against her hips. “I’m not a notch on a belt.” “You could never be a notch, London Chantelle. You’re the whole belt, sugar.” Her face softened, and the playfulness in her eyes died. He recognized the deliberation behind them, the wonder if she’d be safe, here and at work. London needn’t have worried. She might get scared, but mutual satisfaction was the only way his brand of sexual fulfillment worked. “Say yes or no.” He pressed his torso to her corseted body, the last space between her body and his obliterated. “But say yes.” “What will happen if I say yes?” “What you want. What you’ve probably always wanted.” Her eyes misted with a surprising vulnerability. “Yes.

What will happen if I say yes?” “What you want. What you’ve probably always wanted.” Her eyes misted with a surprising vulnerability. “Yes.

You will not disparage yourself in my presence. Not ever.