Lyndetta

“He can’t understand that what I’ve done was to ensure his safety. He thinks I’m a monster. A burden that he has to endure. A danger to the family. He wants nothing to do with me and avoids me. When he can’t avoid me he has a look in his eye that I know well, and the look says, ‘Why won’t she die? Why won’t she just die?’ I’m like that room upstairs; he just wants to close the door and forget any of it happened. He wants to close the door so eventually, like our mother, I’ll become the beautiful woman that died too young and nothing more. All my sins will be forgotten and hidden, locked away never to be spoken of again”
― Angelique Jones, Michael

“I feel your tension. Your instincts are screaming for you to fight. As you should. Do it, pet. Try with everything you have. But don’t you dare make a fucking sound.” The permission sent my adrenaline soaring even more. He was right. I wanted to flee. To back out and run far away, regardless that the resistance from his arms made my pulse explode in a heavenly rhythm. My shoulders tried thrashing as I ground the balls of my feet and jerked to the side as hard as I could. The setting and sense of helplessness gave me strength I wasn’t aware I had. The primal need to escape became my only focus and it was genuine. My brain was sending danger signals, clashing with the arousal making my skin tingle. I threw every ounce of myself forward, feeling his body stay connected to mine. Small grunts left my mouth and his hand came back to slap over my lips while he gripped around my waist tightly. I was lifted so easily from the ground that my eyes widened, even as my legs kicked back against him.”
― Alaska Angelini, RUSH: The Extended Version

“You belong to me now, pet. Every inch of your beautiful body.”
― Alaska Angelini, Rush: The Extended Version

“I sold my chastity for a book. If I had only resisted him, would I be here now? “I want you to read to me,” he murmured as he turned to the first page. I stared at the Cyrillic script. “I can’t. I don’t know how.” Simple conversational Russian was one thing, but the complex language of Jane Austen was another. “You will learn,” he informed me. “I will help you.” A small furrow appeared between his brows as he turned his eyes to the text. “It is generally accepted that a rich man should need a wife,” he read, butchering the classic first line. I”
― Julia Sykes, Czar