Cherise Sinclair

“I just realized how honest you are. Even to the point of being rude.”
“What’s the point in lying?”
Note to self: never ask this man if a dress makes me look fat.

When she pulled up her hair and bent her neck, Z fastened on the necklace. He lifted her chin. “Kitten, I vow to be worthy of the trust you’ve given me. I’ll protect you, push you to grow, and cherish you with all my heart.”

“A good relationship is a two-way street, gatita. Submitting and serving is equaled by a master’s need to take control, to protect, to make someone happy.”

Her nerves drank in the hurting like flowers in a drought, and her body started to shake. This wasn’t right. She couldn’t take this. She’d break. But Sam…Sam would keep her safe as she fell apart.

She realized the horrible feeling inside had disappeared. The pressure and the shadows were gone from her spirit, washed away with her tears and pain.
What kind of a perv was she that she needed to hurt to be able to empty her emotions?

“Whatever demon invented stiletto-heeled boots should roast in hell…”

“Awww, that's sweet. Nothing says ‘I love you’ like a well-made implement of pain.”

Galen stared at the two of them, laughing like fools, before commenting to Z, “Women really are the tougher sex.”

“You don’t have anything to say about it. I’ll be talking to him. See if he’s worthy of you.”
Her mouth dropped open. Then she shocked him spitless with a hug before dancing down to where Andrea was setting up drinks.
Sam heard Cullen’s sub whisper, “You hugged Master Sam?”
“My reputation’s going to hell,” Sam grumbled, giving Linda a quick check before turning away.
“You’d best go beat on someone,” Marcus agreed.

Homework. Frigging what-I-did-on-my-slavery-vacation homework.