#sinclair

Am I your dom, little rabbit?” “Yes.” Her red-brown brows drew together. “What’s wrong?” “Not a thing.” He gave her a faint smile, and his gravelly voice deepened. “I thought I’d tell you we’re getting married next month.” ~Nolan and Beth~ ↗

— Cherise Sinclair

#erotic-romance #romance #romantic #romantic

She took a second look at him, at his fancy tailored suit. Dark gray with pinstripes. Oh please, like she’d really believe he was a dom at all? “Gabrielle Anderson. Are you sure you’re Master Marcus?” “Why would you think I’m not Master Marcus?” he asked. Well, good grief. She waved a hand at him and kept the duh from slipping out. Just in case he really was Master Marcus. Maybe he hadn’t changed yet or something. “The suit? Where are your leathers or latex or…biker jacket or vest? And black? Did you forget to wear black?” He stared for a second, as if she’d turned into a drooling idiot, and then simply roared. Deep, full laughter—amazing coming from someone who looked like he should have a stick up his ass. ↗

— Cherise Sinclair

#erotica #make-me-sir #change

the easiest way to keep a woman over your shoulder is with a hand on her ass, and the other between her legs. ↗

— Cherise Sinclair

#cherise-sinclair #master-of-the-mountain #bdsm

He liked to touch, she realized. In bed, he kept his arms around her or a hand on her like now. The way he played with her breasts, or just touched her, or ran his hands over her body, made her feel so...so beautiful, Desirable. ↗

— Cherise Sinclair

#desirable #sex #touching #beauty

By the way, you have a fine ass. Sir. ↗

— Cherise Sinclair

#erotica #make-me-sir #erotica

God, you’re uptight. Did the aliens maybe forget to remove your anal probe? ↗

— Cherise Sinclair

#erotica #to-command-and-collar #erotica

Oh lord and master. High muckety-muck. ↗

— Cherise Sinclair

#erotica #make-me-sir #erotica

You dumb-ass ape, get your hand off me. What—are you the first in your family to be born without a tail? ↗

— Cherise Sinclair

#erotica #make-me-sir #family

She couldn’t take her eyes from the dancing flame. No, this was so wrong. Candles should be used for meditation…for romance. Or on a birthday cake at least. So where was the cake? The present? The song? As he stepped closer to her—as the damned flame got way too close—she started singing. “Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me…” Marcus paused, looking at her in disbelief. See. I knew he didn’t have a sense of humor. “Happy birthday, dear Gabi”—she lifted her head and blew out the candle—“happy birthday to me. ↗

— Cherise Sinclair

#erotica #make-me-sir #humor

Okay, you’re older. Not much, really. And considering you love staying in shape and I refuse to run, we’ll probably get all old and crippled at the same time. If not, then I’ll learn to use a cane, and I’ll get to beat on your ass for a change. ↗

— Cherise Sinclair

#erotica #make-me-sir #change