Praise Sara Cate Quotes

You made me very proud today. And you are more than enough. You are perfect.

I think we’re all tired of being shamed and shoved into these quiet, perfect little innocent versions of ourselves while men can be as deviant as they want.

Because you are mine, Charlotte. And I don’t appreciate when anyone talks badly about something that is mine. Do you think I have bad taste?

When love becomes toxic, it’s not love anymore.

You said what people think in their heads is a them problem. Don’t make it yours.

I’m addicted to you,” he groans while fucking me. “You were made for me, Charlotte. You’re mine, and I never want to let you go. Do you understand me? I’d fuck you forever if I could.

Dear God, please let this be the only man I fuck for the rest of my life because there’s not a chance in Hell anyone else could ever top that.

You are such a good girl,” he says, and I nearly melt into the floor.

But this change in me isn’t scary, not to me. It’s exciting. Because I feel like I’m on the brink of something huge, and I can’t wait to see what it is.

RULE #6: AVOID MALLS FOR THE RISK OF RUNNING INTO YOUR EX WHILE HOLDING BAGS OF LINGERIE YOU FANTASIZE WEARING FOR HIS DAD.

Charlotte, listen to me. You are a smart, beautiful, confident woman. You don’t need me to tell you what you want. I want to hear it from you. You deserve pleasure just as much as I do, and trust me, I want nothing more than to hear you utter the dirtiest words, and then I want to do whatever it is you say. So say it.

RULE #3: ALWAYS DO AS YOU’RE TOLD—ESPECIALLY WHEN IT INVOLVES GETTING ON YOUR KNEES FOR A HOT MILLIONAIRE DADDY.

RULE #18: WEAR A REMOTE-CONTROLLED VIBRATOR AT YOUR OWN RISK.

She's too perfect to ignore and too forbidden to be mine.

I’d rather be someone people deem as depraved or sinful than being narrow-minded and hateful.

Gotta love anxiety, when one paranoid thought spirals into a hundred. Like

For all the good girls.

I’ll fill out that form for you if you want, but I don’t need to. You want me to tell you that I want to taste you, Charlotte? Because I do. I want to touch you, tease you, fuck you, bend you over my knee and turn that pretty little backside red. There’s not a thing on that list I don’t want to do with you, so you can put the paper and pen away, little girl. Every single thing would get a five from me.

Oh well, I don’t need to breathe. I just need him.

I’m yours and you’re mine.

There must be some unwritten rule that people who know of and partake in the kinky stuff can be kinky and flirtatious around each other. But to the rest of us, they have to modify their behavior. Like we’re the muggles and they’re the wizards.

You have no idea how hard this is for me, Charlotte. To have you as mine, but not in the way I want.

A better man might apologize first, but I can’t bring myself to apologize for loving Charlotte. I’m not sorry about it.

What…are you doing?” he asks. I expected this question, so I’m prepared. “Being a good girl,” I reply, “Sir.

Was I a good girl?” she whispers with her mouth inches from mine. A smile creeps across my face as I gather her into my arms. “You’re always a good girl.

DON’T APOLOGIZE FOR SHIT YOU’RE NOT SORRY FOR.

She’s too perfect to ignore and too forbidden to be mine.

That’s it, Charlotte. Good girl.” His words spur me on, sending bolts of lightning through my body. My own fingers rub my clit in fast circles, and it feels so good; it’s a relief. Emerson’s hand rests over mine, but he isn’t touching me. Instead, he grips my hip with one hand and grinds his erection against my backside.

You have a bite mark on your ass cheek, Charlotte.

I no longer see a man out of my reach. I see a man who makes me feel worthy in a way I didn't know I needed - didn't know I deserved.

Not just any love, Emerson. It means you’ll have true, all-consuming, intoxicating, life-changing, earth-shattering love. Love you would die for. That you couldn’t possibly live without. Love that makes it hard to breathe. Like you can feel it not just in your heart but in your veins and your bones and your muscles. Everywhere.

You’re such a good girl, Charlotte.” My shoulders relax, seeming to melt down at my sides as I gaze up at him, those beautiful words washing over me like warm water. Suddenly, I’m all gooey and compliant, like that one little phrase put me in a trance. He could literally do anything to me in this state. And I sort of want him to.

That was the intent. Do you think men ever feel bad for the stuff they like? Do they get called sluts or depraved or nasty? No. I think we’re all tired of being shamed and shoved into these quiet, perfect little innocent versions of ourselves while men can be as deviant as they want.

I knew in that moment that this one was different. That in just five seconds flat, I knew she was somehow made for me.

I’m just a naive, desperate girl that craves a ridiculous amount of praise and attention and is stupid enough to do anything for it.

You mean, will people think it’s wrong? That sounds like a them problem.

That nagging anxiety in my gut from before has turned into a gaping, bleeding wound, but it’s better this way. Get the feelings out. No secrets. And we’ll move past them.

I want you, I need you, I love you. And that’s all that matters to me.

What is there to be ashamed of? Everyone does it. Everyone enjoys it. What a waste of a good life to pretend you don't.

I wanted to make it clear that you are mine.

Such a good girl,” he murmurs, and I breathe it in. Those words are a serotonin boost for my soul. They tell me I’m safe, adored, valued, and have nothing at all in the world to worry about.

Reaching out, he touches my chin. “You did so good,” he replies in a gravelly tone I can feel from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “You like me telling you that, don’t you?” “Mm-hm.” His thumb strokes my chin. “That’s what I thought.

You’re such a good girl, Charlotte.” My shoulders relax, seeming to melt down at my sides as I gaze up at him, those beautiful words washing over me like warm water. Suddenly, I’m all gooey and compliant, like that one little phrase put me in a trance. He could literally do anything to me in this state.

Are you sure there’s not someone…” “Mom! I literally go to work and come home. Where would I even meet a guy?” She’s laughing with a sly smile as she tries to hide her face from me. “I’m just sayin’. You have the look of a girl who’s been—” “I am begging you not to finish that sentence.” “I’m an ER nurse, Charlie. You think a little sex talk makes me squeamish?

and the disappointment in her expression

you’re better off asking for forgiveness instead of permission.

what people think in their heads is a them problem. Don’t make it yours.

She is so blunt and open with her questions, but so guarded with her emotions.

It means you’ll have true, all-consuming, intoxicating, life-changing, earth-shattering love. Love you would die for. That you couldn’t possibly live without. Love that makes it hard to breathe. Like you can feel it not just in your heart but in your veins and your bones and your muscles. Everywhere.

What could possibly be so bad about being someone’s pet, sub, or slave? In the playful sense, of course. As long as it’s consensual and everyone has something

You want me to fuck you in the front seat of this car, in front of people passing by, so we both get sent to jail? Because if you touch it, that’s exactly where this is going.

There’s a subtle look of approval on his face, and I breathe it in, like it’s keeping me alive.

this week has proven anything to me, it’s that I need to watch myself around this girl. She’s too perfect to ignore and too forbidden to be mine.

Ah-ah. Crawl there for me.

Perfect,” he whispers almost silently. And I swim in his praise.

wanted the broken parts of him because I thought if I could love him through the storm, I would be rewarded with a love that was more intense and intoxicating. I was wrong. Instead of appreciating me for staying with him at his worst, he blamed me for little things when his life seemed to be going right. I wasn’t the glue that held him together; I was the glue that held him in his pain and reminded him of his past.

Ms. Underwood, you looked exquisite on your knees.

In this house, with no one else around, there’s only us. Her and me and this unexplainable connection. You’re lucky enough to have something like this once in a lifetime, so if this brief, heated phase of our lives is all I’m going to get, then I’m going to squeeze every last drop out of it.

I hear the slightest praise from his lips and how easily I caved and salivated for it, giving up everything I believed in just to hear it again and again. As if my entire worth hung on those two beguiling words: good girl.

You can’t be unhappy in a Mexican restaurant.

Grabbing a bottle of wine from the kitchen, I take up the living room couch to myself and flip the TV onto the trashiest show I can find. Then, I proceed to drink half the bottle and scroll through my phone, paying no attention to the show that’s playing.

You said what people think in their heads is a them problem. Don’t make it yours.” “Damn. I said that?

Dad left because he couldn’t accept me as I am. He would have rather seen me unhappy than accept the change I knew I needed. But you found a guy who wants you exactly as you are.

Touch either of them again, and I’ll fucking bury you.

He just had a way of making me feel worthless and desperate for any positive attention from him, so much so that I spent more time trying to please him than actually being happy

But I stuck with him. I wanted the broken parts of him because I thought if I could love him through the storm, I would be rewarded with a love that was more intense and intoxicating. I was wrong. Instead of appreciating me for staying with him at his worst, he blamed me for little things when his life seemed to be going right.

I can’t afford a dress.” “I’ll buy your dress.

I stuck with him. I wanted the broken parts of him because I thought if I could love him through the storm, I would be rewarded with a love that was more intense and intoxicating. I was wrong. Instead of appreciating me for staying with him at his worst, he blamed me for little things when his life seemed to be going right.

I zone out while shoveling ice cream into my mouth, thinking about the way he touched my cheek, how strangely gratifying it felt when he said that one word: lovely. He didn’t call me pretty or say you look nice. This was different. It was…approval.

He wasn’t any good for me. It’s better to be alone than to be with someone who’s bad for you.

Do you want me to stop, Charlotte? If you’re scared, we can walk right out the door.” “No…” I whisper. “Do you trust me?” “Yes.” “Then lie down.

If you want me to stop, just say mercy. Understand?

Oh, then I guess I’ll have to show Mom your e-reader. Let’s see how smart she thinks Mating the Werewolf is.

Sophie and I are scarfing down carne asada and queso. I mean it doesn't exactly solve all of my love life woes, but it sure does help. You can't be unhappy in a Mexican resturant.

Beau doesn’t have anger problems, per se. He’s just an asshole.

Turns out leading a group of eight-year-olds on roller skates in the cupid shuffle isn’t enough to cheer me up.

RULE #1: NEVER PUT UP WITH A DOUCHEBAG BOYFRIEND—DUMP THAT LOSER.

WHEN HE TELLS YOU YOU’RE WORTH IT, BELIEVE IT.

I mean…I never considered myself sexy before, but as I stare at my full curves and the fleshy softness of my belly, I love the way I look in this. I see something sexy I never saw before.

To know that I may not be a twig or have perfect skin, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be sexy.

Demure

RULE #33: THE TRUTH HURTS LIKE A BITCH.

After I broke up with Beau, I was finally alone with myself, and I realized how much I missed…me. Because I didn’t exist around him. He existed as the center of my universe, and I was his shadow.

So I had a fistful of her hair in my hand, and we were both in the moment when I looked her right in the eye and said, ‘Suck my cock like a good little girl.’ The next thing I knew, she reared back her fist and clocked me right in the face.

Being a good girl,” I reply, “sir.

Sir,” I breathe, pressing against his lips. “Can I please suck your cock?

His voice is still in my head, though, constantly reminding me what a fuckup I am.

I will obey every single command without hesitation.

how I went from a fight with Beau on his front lawn a couple days ago to this—his father telling me that I look good on my knees.

The first window is open to a room that’s too dark to see anything. It’s a dim blue light, and there’s movement on the other side—the quick, pounding motion of someone being…well, pounded. My throat constricts as I look away, then back again. And my belly warms.

RULE #19: NOT ALL PUNISHMENTS ARE BAD.

RULE #24: WORK IS SO MUCH MORE ENJOYABLE WHEN YOU’RE FUCKING YOUR HOT BOSS.

Everyone has a desire they think is kinky, Ms. Underwood. Thinking what we like is abnormal is the one thing we all seem to have in common.

I laugh again and ruffle her short, faded blue hair. It’s still growing out from the buzz-cut she gave herself last summer, so now it hangs just below her ears.

Then, I grab her by the back of the neck, pulling her in for a bruising kiss, and whisper, “I want you on my face.

I wanted the broken parts of him because I thought if I could love him through the storm, I would be rewarded with a love that was more intense and intoxicating. I was wrong. Instead of appreciating me for staying with him at his worst, he blamed me for little things when his life seemed to be going right. I wasn’t the glue that held him together; I was the glue that held him in his pain and reminded him of his past.

I think I am in the middle of a major change. Growing into something I’ve always wanted, but never felt confident enough to ask for.

I was finally alone with myself, and I realized how much I missed…me. Because I didn’t exist around him. He existed as the center of my universe,

How delusional does a man have to be to live a life without his own kids?

And suddenly, there is no hesitation. The words just travel effortlessly across the table straight from his lips to my ears. “Ms. Underwood, you looked exquisite on your knees.