Soft Dom Quotes

I cocked an ear, but there was nothing much to hear. A girl was on the phone next door, complaining about some guy to a girlfriend, and someone down a floor was either talking to his cat or having a psychotic episode, but both voices were clearer than the soft noises coming from the living room. The vamps were presumably cleaning the wounds better than I’d been able to do at the bar, and bandaging him up. I knew nobody was planning a snack– it would be like offering people used to Beluga caviar and Dom Perignon a sack of stale Fritos and a flat Coke. Sloppy seconds weren’t likely to appeal.

Oh you would have loved him. My Wilber was all heart. And farts. That man couldn’t walk five steps without tooting.” She gave a soft giggle in memory. “I do miss that. Not the farts so much, just… the little things.

Damn, you’re soft. I have trouble keeping my hands off you.” Okay, serious melty stuff.

stroked her body softly and carefully, rocking her, kissing her everywhere I could reach. I didn't care who saw. Fuck them. Fuck all of them sick bastards.

At her feet, a luminous path lit the way through the grassy field. It was made entirely from glow sticks; each of the radiant lights had been painstakingly set into the ground at perfect intervals, tracing a curved trail that shone through the darkness. Apparently, Jay had been busy. Near the water’s edge, at the end of the iridescent pathway and beneath a stand of trees, Jay had set up more than just a picnic. He had created a retreat, an oasis for the two of them. Violet shook her head, unable to find the words to speak. He led her closer, and Violet followed, amazed. Jay had hung more of the luminous glow sticks from the low-hanging branches, so they dangled overhead. They drifted and swayed in the breeze that blew up from the lake. Beneath the natural canopy of limbs, he had set up two folding lounge chairs and covered them with pillows and blankets. “I’d planned to use candles, but the wind would’ve blown ‘em out, so I had to improvise.” “Seriously, Jay? This is amazing.” Violet felt awed. She couldn’t imagine how long it must have taken him. “I’m glad you like it.” He led her to one of the chairs and drew her down until she was sitting before he started unpacking the cooler. She half-expected him to pull out a jar of Beluga caviar, some fancy French cheeses, and Dom Perignon champagne. Maybe even a cluster of grapes to feed to her…one at a time. So when he started laying out their picnic, Violet laughed. Instead of expensive fish eggs and stinky cheeses, Jay had packed Daritos and chicken soft tacos-Violet’s favorites. And instead of grapes, he brought Oreos. He knew her way too well. Violet grinned as he pulled out two clear plastic cups and a bottle of sparkling cider. She giggled. “What? No champagne?” He shrugged, pouring a little of the bubbling apple juice into each of the flimsy cups. “I sorta thought that a DUI might ruin the mood.” He lifted his cup and clinked-or rather, tapped-it against hers. “Cheers.” He watched her closely as she took a sip. For several moments, they were silent. The lights swayed above them, creating shadows that danced over them. The park was peaceful, asleep, as the lake’s waters lapped the shore. Across from them, lights from the houses along the water’s edge cast rippling reflections on the shuddering surface. All of these things transformed the ordinary park into a romantic winter rendezvous.

Will you never forgive me for what I did so long ago, Jane?” The soft question caught her off guard. “Would you do it again if you had the chance?” She could hardly breathe, awaiting his answer. With a low oath, he glanced away. Then his features hardened into those of the rigid and arrogant Dom he had become. “Yes. I did the only thing I could to keep you happy.” Her breath turned to ice in her throat. “That’s the problem. You still really believe that.” His gaze swung to her again, but before he could say anything more, noises in the hall arrested them both. “It’s gone very quiet in there.” It was the duke’s voice, remarkably clear, sounding as if it came from right outside the door. “Perhaps we should knock first.” Oh no! As Jane frantically set her gown to rights, she heard Lisette say, “Don’t you dare bother them, Max. I’m sure everything’s fine. Let’s come back later.” With panic growing in her belly, Jane glanced around for her tucker. Wordlessly, Dom plucked it from the back of a chair and handed it to her. Without meeting his gaze, she pinned it into her bodice, hoping to hide the tiny holes where Dom had unwittingly ripped it free of its pins. “Besides,” drawled Tristan, “it’s not as if Dom will seduce her or anything. That’s not his vice.” Sweet Lord, were they all right outside the door? “I’m not worried about that,” Max answered. “Miss Vernon isn’t the sort to let him seduce her.” As Jane tensed, Dom hissed under his breath, “Do the blasted idiots not realize we can hear them?” “Apparently not.” Dom furtively adjusted his trousers, which seemed to be rather…oddly protruding just now. Ohhh. Right. This was one time she wished Nancy hadn’t been so forthcoming about what happened to a man’s body when he was aroused. So that, not his pistol, had been the odd bulge digging into her. Definitely not a pistol. Her cheeks positively flamed. Faith, how could she even face his family after this and not give away what she and Dom had been doing? Mortified, she hurried to the looking glass to fix her hair. While she stuffed tendrils back into place and repinned drooping curls, Dom came up behind her to meet her gaze in the mirror. “Before we let them in, I want an answer to my question about Blakeborough.” Curse the stubborn man. How could she tell Dom she was so pathetic that she hadn’t even managed to find another man to love in all the years they’d spent apart? That she’d been foolish enough to wait around for Dom all this time, when he’d happily gone on living his life without her? Her pride couldn’t endure having him know that. To her relief, Tristan said, “Well, whatever they’re up to, we have to get moving.” A knock sounded at the door. “Dom? Jane? Are you done talking?” She met Dom’s gaze with a certain defiance, and he arched one eyebrow in question. So she took matters into her own hands and strode for the door. Caught off guard, Dom swore behind her and snatched up his greatcoat just as she opened the door and said, “Please come in. We’re quite finished.” In more ways than one. Their companions trooped in, casting her and Dom wary glances. Jane looked over to see Dom holding his greatcoat looped over his arm as if to shield the front of him. That brought the blushes back to her cheeks. She caught Lisette furtively watching her, and she cursed herself for wearing her emotions on her sleeve. Better shift her attention elsewhere before Lisette guessed just how shameless she’d been.

Dominic, with the powerful aura, got under my skin before I had a chance to ward him off and now I’m screwed. Even more now I know his taste and how hard he feels against the soft, wet parts of me. Dominic just introduced me to the most dangerous man in New York. Fuck. Fuck. Clarity pours over me. Does this mean Dominic is a member of the mafia after all? Only it wasn’t only a little kiss, was it? I’m sexually frustrated and Dom is standing there with his hands in his tailored pants pockets, aroused. The bulge is unmistakable. “Gabriella…” God, I’m wet too. If I rub my thighs together, I’ll feel how much. He’s hard, I’m wet… it’s a match made in heaven. “Gabriella…” he says again, thick and tarnished as I look him up and down. “Yeah?” “I said you’re too far away,” he murmurs, cutting his dark gaze my way. Stirring me. “Come here to me, cara.” he hooks two fingers with a motion and smirks like a devil with the key to all my desires. I swear my belly bottoms out as my feet carry me forward. Unable to refuse the invisible rope he has around my waist, pulling me closer. “Bossy aren’t you?” “I am your boss.” “I don’t think you want to remind me of that.” He hums and the rumble hurtles down between my thighs. How does he do that? Turn me on with just a noise. “I guess you’d like it if I called you sir, wouldn’t you?” His eyes flare and then darken, he drops his chin to his chest. “Do you really wish to turn me on right this moment?” Oh, fuck. Do I? I do. Yeah, I really do.

This is…mad…” Anything this wonderful had to be some form of insanity. “Then I’ve been mad for twelve years.” He tugged at her nipple with his teeth, and she gasped. “Because I imagined this often. Holding you…touching you.” He laved her nipple with his tongue as if to soothe it. “I tried not to torture myself, but…it was impossible that I should never indulge in…the fantasy of you like this, in my arms again.” He’d thought of her all these years? And done nothing about it? “You could have…had me whenever you wanted,” she choked out, even as she thrilled to his words. “You just didn’t…want me.” “Not true.” His breathing labored, he dragged his mouth from her breast to kiss his way back up to her throat. “I couldn’t allow myself to want you. There’s a difference.” None that she could see. But just now, she could hardly think. One of Dom’s hands worked its magic on her breast, his mouth snaked around to cup her derriere and pull her flush against him. Something hard pressed into her through her skirts. What the devil? “Jane,” he rasped against her lips. “My darling Jane…still mine…” The possessive note in his voice drove out every other thought. She was losing the fight against him. Sweet Lord, she couldn’t. Mustn’t, until she was sure he wouldn’t become Dom the Almighty again. Until she was sure he wouldn’t trample her into dust, the way he had before when things hadn’t been exactly how he wanted them. She couldn’t go through that again. She pushed him back, breaking his hold on her. “Not yours,” she said firmly. Her breath still came in heavy gasps, and she fought to get it under control. To get herself under control. “Not anymore.” He stared at her a long moment, his eyes ablaze and his hands flexing at his sides as if regretting the loss of her already. “Will you never forgive me for what I did so long ago, Jane?” The soft question caught her off guard. “Would you do it again if you had the chance?” She could hardly breathe, awaiting his answer. With a low oath, he glanced away. Then his features hardened into those of the rigid and arrogant Dom he had become. “Yes. I did the only thing I could to keep you happy.” Her breath turned to ice in her throat. “That’s the problem. You still really believe that.” His gaze swung to her again, but before he could say anything more, noises in the hall arrested them both.

The promise in those words drove me out of my mind. I swear the world went soft around the edges, and Emanuel’s hold on me suddenly wasn’t nearly tight enough. His arm draped loosely around my shoulder might as well have been torture, because the body language was all wrong and I didn’t want to be protected, didn’t want to feel his cool regard—I wanted him to hold me down and fucking claim me. Miles

Henry was wearing his flower undershorts with the start of an erection poking at the soft material. I slowly looked from the bulge to his face and winked. “My

Happy Birthday, Dom,” she whispers softly, running her fingers over my chest before drifting off. Somewhere between the drift of sleep and consciousness, I claim the only gift I want, palming her thigh and drawing it up to bring her snugger to me. Pressing and keeping my lips to her forehead, I inhale her scent and let myself fall into the idea of us and linger there—knowing that eventually, I’ll be jerked away by the hard, unforgivable reality waiting for me when I hit the ground.

Every brittle, suppressed feeling I have erupts, splintering into a thousand shards that rupture my organs. I let my body go limp, and I crumple, curling up like a dying bug in the dirt. A low, raw keening hits my ears. It’s soft, barely audible, but it whines out of my throat with grating force. My nails dig into my forehead, then into my hair, as if I can dig my grief out by the roots. Lucky. Jaykob. Dom. Jasper. Beau. Dead.

Seth rubbed his nose against Dom’s shoe in a silent plea. The leather was so soft. So unlike Dom’s heart.

The low thrum of Dom’s voice sent her pulse into a dance. Devil take him! She’d just seen him last night; his mere voice shouldn’t make her swoon, for pity’s sake. It shouldn’t make her remember the soft words he’d whispered as he’d caressed her and kissed her and swept her into madness… What was wrong with her? She wasn’t letting that man sweep her anywhere, not as long as he only wanted to sweep her out of his way. Now if only she could be sure why. She strained to listen. For a while, the gentlemen were too intent on eating to say much of interest. But once the clink of silver ended and the clink of glasses began, their tongues loosened. Thank heaven for brandy. She could smell it all the way over here.

There are to be found two sorts of Devotion, the one essential and true; the other accidental and sensible. The essential, is a promptitude of mind to do well, (1) (S.Thom.2.2.q.82.art.I.) fulfil the commands of God, and to perform all things belonging to his service, though, through humane frailty, all be not actually done as is desired. (2) (Suar.t.2.de.Pel.l.2.c.6.n.16&18.) This is true Devotion, though it be not accompanied with pleasure, sweetness, delight, nor tears, but rather it is usually attended with temptation, dryness, and darkness. 34. Accidental and sensible Devotion is, (3) (St.Bern.Ser.I.de Nat.Dom.Suarez in Molin de Oration. c.6.) when good desires are attended with a pleasant softness of heart, tenderness of tears, or other sensible affections. This is not to be sought after, nay, it is rather more secure to wean the will from it, and to set light by it; because besides that it is usually dangerous, it is a great obstacle to progress, and the advancement in the internal way.

Dom leaned back over Logan and kissed him softly. “I’m going to take care of you,” he said softly. “We’re going to take care of each other.” Logan

Merry Christmas, Dom.” I smiled at the feel of Logan’s fingers skimming over my head. Even after nine years together, he was still just as fascinated with my bald head as he’d ever been. “Merry Christmas, Logan,” I said softly. I

You know?” I asked in disbelief. “Who…who told you?” Eli’s hand skimmed over my cheek. “You did,” he said softly. I shook my head, but couldn’t find any words. “I’m thinking you made the decision to ask me a few weeks ago, right?” I nodded stupidly. “How?” “You started looking at me differently…you just suddenly seemed so unsure of yourself. I…I thought maybe you weren’t sure about us so I went to talk to Dom. I thought maybe if I asked you-” I

The wind stirred his loose hair and Sorasa assessed him for the first time since her memory failed. Since the deck of the Tyri ship caught fire, and someone seized her around the middle, plunging them both into the dark waves. She did not need to guess to know who. Dom’s clothing was torn but long dry. He still wore the leather jerkin with the undershirt, but his borrowed cloak had been left to feed the sea serpents. The rest of him looked intact. He had only a few fresh cuts across the backs of his hands, like a terrible rope burn. Scales, Sorasa knew. The sea serpent coiled in her head, bigger than the mast, its scales flashing a dark rainbow. Her breath caught when she realized he wore no sword belt, nor sheath. Nor sword. “Dom,” she bit out, reaching between them. Only her instincts caught her, her hand freezing inches above his hip. His brow furrowed again, carving a line of concern. “Your sword.” The line deepened, and Sorasa understood. She mourned her own dagger, earned so many decades ago, now lost to a burning palace. She could not imagine what Dom felt for a blade centuries old. “It is done,” he finally said, fishing into his shirt. The collar pulled, showing a line of white flesh, the planes of hard muscle rippling beneath. Sorasa dropped her eyes, letting him fuss. Only when something soft touched her temple did she look up again. Her heart thumped. Dom did not meet her gaze, focused on his work, cleaning her wound with a length of cloth. It was the fabric that made her breath catch. Little more than a scrap of gray green. Thin but finely made by master hands. Embroidered with silver antlers. It was a piece of Dom’s old cloak, the last remnant of Iona. It survived a kraken, an undead army, a dragon, and the dungeons of a mad queen. But it would not survive Sorasa Sarn. She let him work, her skin aflame beneath his fingers. Until the last bits of blood were gone, and the last piece of his home tossed away. “Thank you,” she finally said to no reply.

The Ashford I know likes his girls red at the very least. Is the little librarian turning you soft?” “Well, the Satan I know wouldn’t let his lowly slave look at other Doms as though she deserves to suck their cocks.

I would destroy the world if it would please you. I would ruin every man who thought he could have you.” His stubble scratched against soft skin; his breath skated across my cheek, sending shivers down my spine. In that moment, I was desperate, needy, and so very his. “Fuck me like you mean that, Dom.

. . . the most perfect apologia I ever heard for the cloistered contemplative life. It is contained in two brief sentences. They come from the life of my late Abbott, Dom Mary Frederic Dunne. He would as any antagonist of the contemplative life two short questions. They admitted of only one very brief answer. He would look kindly at the objectioner and ask softly: "You believe in the efficiency of prayer, don't you?" When the person made the only possible reply - an affirmative one - Dom Frederic would smile and even more quietly ask: "Then what is wrong with a whole life of prayer?

A real man doesn’t waver in the face of what needs to be done,” he said softly. “There are many acts of war. Many battles that take place off the field with no uniforms or offices in command. Sometimes, battle takes place on your kitchen floor.

but I just wanted to make sure everyone was confident they could handle the dynamics of a polyamorous relationship.” “Oh my God, Dom,” I groaned, feeling my face heat. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Noah said with a soft smile. “We get that our relationship isn’t the norm and has come together under… interesting circumstances. Dom’s just asking questions because he loves you.” Zach coughed into his fist. “Kiss ass.

You've been taking care of me from the moment you asked me to move in with you," he said softly. "You feed me, make sure I take my meds, you take care of my body, help me to improve. You make sure I get enough sleep, you help me find sexual release, and when you realized I needed a scene, you gave me one that made me fly higher than I've ever flown before. You quit your job so you could be with me, and one day without you assured that I didn't even feel guilty for that, because I missed you way too much. You're happiest when you get to make the decisions for me, and I'm happiest when all I need to do is obey you and follow your lead." Rhys had looked at him all that time, his eyes growing a little misty as Cornell finished by saying, "You're not my Dom or just my boyfriend. You're my Daddy.

Before I could process the question, from the back side was a soft 'snick" as the cross was adjusted to my height and the ankle clamps latched down. My hands were free, but I wasn't going anywhere. My gasp must have been audible as this was not part of my design, but I was thinking I needed to have mine re-fitted.

Dom’s lips tightened, and I continued chuckling as I wandered over to the swinging bench and pulled my latest paperback from my bag. The yellowed pages were a soothing soft brush against my fingers and the spine let out a comforting creak that melded with the squeak of the sturdy chains holding the padded bench suspended from the porch ceiling. It was one of those large swinging benches, almost the size of the mattress in my dorm room, and covered in throw pillows.