Bayon / Jean-Baptiste Quotes

“So pink and swollen,"Jean-Baptiste whispered,his fingers easing her lips apart,one brushing over the sensitive bud of her clit.”
― Laura Wright, Bayon / Jean-Baptiste

“She curled her tongue around the silver rings and tugged. It was as if she´d unleashed a wild animal. With that one simple movement, Jean-Baptiste´s face went from a sensual hunger to a mask of fierce,feline possessivness. He glared at her. Snarled at her. Sweat broke on his brow, his eyes flashed burnt gold and he looked ready to attack. Maybe she should´ve been scared. Or at least, cautious. But when she eased her tongue from the rings, she grinned.
"Lie back," he growled at her. "Now.”
― Laura Wright, Bayon / Jean-Baptiste

“Don´t be afraid,Miss Burel.This won´t hurt a bit."He ran his teeth over his lower lip,tugging at the silver hoops."Unless you want it to.”
― Laura Wright, Bayon / Jean-Baptiste

“Sweet,Genny,"he whispered against her breast."You´re creaming,ma chérie.Your tights,your pussy and my sheets are drenched."He ran his teeth over her nipple."Just the way I like it."
"Jean-Baptiste,please,"she said breathlessly,wiggling against his wrist,wanting his hand,needing to be filled.”
― Laura Wright, Bayon / Jean-Baptiste

“Sure she'd found males attractive. But wanting them? Needing to feel their skin? Taste their lips? Run her fingers through their hair as she growled and begged them for all things dirty?

Not until now.

Until Jean-Baptiste.”
― Alexandra Ivy, Bayon / Jean-Baptiste

“I thought that was my room," she said, gesturing behind him.

"It is."

"And my shower."

He sniffed with irritation. "I have a bathtub."

"And that's a problem?"

"I don't do bathtubs, Miss Burel." His eyebrow lifted. "Unless I have company.”
― Alexandra Ivy, Bayon / Jean-Baptiste

“Miss Burel?"

In one second flat, Genevieve's thoughts died and her entire body went up in flames.

Standing on her rickety porch, with the chipped white paint and the sweet double swing, was the owner of that deep, demanding baritone. Genevieve stared at him like a mole who had just seen the sun for the first time. Hot, blinding and impossible to turn away. She was sure she had never met him before. She would have remembered if she had. Her gaze moved over him. Yes. This male in dark blue jeans and a worn, black leather jacket wasn't someone you walked past without either staring, double-taking or running into a tree. He was so tall his head grazed the roof of the porch, and so broad across the chest, the white T-shirt he wore strained against all that muscle. But it wasn't just his size and fierce manner that had her skin vibrating with awareness, or the thick, dark hair, or the light dusting of stubble around his mouth - or, God, even those incredible liquid amber eyes that equally mocked and studied her. No. It was the brightly colored tattooed skull interwoven with tribal markings that covered his collarbone and ran up the length of his neck.”
― Alexandra Ivy, Bayon / Jean-Baptiste

“Clever, clever cat.

He knew precisely what to say.

And how to touch, she acknowledged, as his fingers moved from her ass to trace the curve of her waist.

"My need for dominance doesn't bother you?" she pressed, knowing his answer was important.

Her cat would never be happy in a subservient role.

"Let's say I'm willing to compromise," he said, the rasp of his breath filling the air. "I don't always have to be on top.”
― Alexandra Ivy, Bayon / Jean-Baptiste