Sweetest Scoundrel Quotes

“I'll use any means necessary -- any f*cking violence I want --in order to keep you safe. Do you understand me, Eve? This isn't bloody negotiable. I will f*cking kill if it means it'll keep you safe.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“He was a being of action and vitality, and when he moved, when he smiled, he became almost impossible to resist.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“Because I deserve more,” she said. “I deserve a man who loves me above all else. I deserve a family and happiness.”
“Then go!” he growled. “Go off and find this mythical man and spread your legs for him if it’ll give you what you want.”
She took two strides toward him and slapped him, quick and hard, and then her eyes widened as she realized what she’d done. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
He turned his face back to her slowly, almost lazily. “I’m not.”
And then she was in his arms, his mouth on hers, wild and hot and dangerously close to out of control. He thrust his hand into her hair, holding her head immobile, and ravished her mouth, biting, tonguing, thrusting.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“She threw back her head, riding him hard, the sweat sliding down between her breasts. He lurched up, half sitting, his arm propping him up, and licked the sweat from her body.
She cried out, gasping, holding his head to her even as he sucked one nipple into his mouth. She felt the pull, felt the answering gush, and knew she was falling apart, spreading outward, a star exploding.
He gasped and let go of her breast, bowing his head to her chest, his hair wild and tangled against her as he groaned and shook.
She felt heat inside her and rose one last time, spreading wide her thighs, shoving him as deep inside her as she could.
Trying to keep him forever.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“Her nostrils flared as she inhaled. There was a musky scent in the air, salty and animal, and it made her clench her legs together.
He grinned suddenly, his white teeth gritted together, as if he knew what he did to her. His fist was moving faster now, the deep red head of his cock appearing and disappearing between his fingers. It shone, fully revealed, and so big she bit her lip.
“Now,” he grunted. “Now, Eve, watch me. Are you watching me?”
“Yes,” she moaned.
The muscles stood out in his neck as a white liquid erupted from his cock, flowing and spurting, his legs shaking, his hand slowing.
And the entire time he watched her.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“Her breath caught on the thought. Was he saying that a woman would put her hands—her mouth—there?
Her bodice felt suddenly too tight as her breaths became faster. She didn’t know where to look: at those long fingers massaging his own leg or his glinting, knowing green eyes.
“And of course,” he continued, “a woman can pleasure herself—with her hand—and a man…” His hand drifted up, straight to the top of his widely spread legs. He gripped himself frankly—lewdly—and looked at her.
She lost all sense of propriety. All sense of place and time and who he was and who she was.
She stared back into those sensuous green eyes and whispered, “Show me.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“Then he began plucking the pins from her hair, carefully, without touching her anywhere else, and Eve began to wonder if 'hair' could possibly be erotic.
She found herself holding her breath, listening to his deep, even exhalations as he worked, her hair loosening and beginning to slide.
It fell all at once, uncoiling heavily over her shoulders. She turned her head to look at him, suddenly shy.
He was staring at her hair.
"It's beautiful," he murmured, burying his fingers in the long tresses, gently working apart the strands, lifting and spreading them. "Like liquid gold." He suddenly lifted the mass to his face. "And perfumed. Like flowers."
"Lily of the valley." He made her feel exotic, still dressed in her sensible gray frock, only her hair loose about her shoulders.
"Lily of the valley," he murmured. "I'll remember that scent forever now, and whenever I smell it again I'll think of you, Eve Dinwoody. You'll be haunting my tomorrows evermore."
She gasped and turned, looking up at him. She'd thought that he'd be smiling teasingly at his words, but he looked quite serious and she stared at him in wonder. Had he always carried this part of himself inside? This wild poetic lover? If so, he'd hidden it well underneath the aggressive, foulmouthed theater manager. She had a secret fondness for the crass theater manager, but the poet...
She swallowed, suddenly nervous.
She might come to love a wild poet.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“He couldn’t take it anymore.
He wrapped his hand around the back of her head and pulled her up, pulled her across his chest, pulled her into a kiss so filthily explicit his tongue might as well have been fucking her mouth.
They groaned in unison and he wrapped his hand over hers, forcing her fingers tight around his erection, showing her how to pull up, the loose skin sliding over his hot core—oh, sweet, sweet God—and down, fisting tight, moving faster, his hips pumping up into their shared grasp.
She moaned and his hips jerked at the sound.
And then she sucked his tongue and hot pleasure speared him. He convulsed, spunk spewing over his fingers, over hers. He smeared them both in it as he yanked himself through it, shuddering.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“She wanted to ride him, wanted to hide him away in her bedroom, to use only for herself.
She was jealous of every woman who had come before her. Had used this wonderful penis. Had heard his groan.
She opened her eyes. But it was the women who would come after that she truly wanted to kill.
He was hers. He should never share this part of himself with anyone else.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“You'll be haunting my tomorrows evermore.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“A man who sets a course and proceeds to sail it, no matter the barriers or odds, is very admirable in my opinion.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“For a moment all was silence, save for her breathing. Triumph raced through Bridget's chest. At last!
Then she heard a masculine chuckle behind her.
Bridget froze, ice sliding down her spine. The sound could be nothing else, not the wind or a creaky house or even a mouse in the walls.
She turned, pushing the panel shut with her shoulder, and palming the portrait as she did so.
The Duke of Montgomery, all golden hair and sharp blue eyes, and wearing a purple velvet suit, smiled at her from the armchair in the far corner of the room.
"A lovely woman in my bed, what a fetching surprise." He cocked his head, a corner of his beautiful mouth curving cruelly. "Tell me, Mrs. Crumb, what are you looking for?”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“Then she heard a masculine chuckle behind her.
Bridget froze, ice sliding down her spine. The sound could be nothing else, not the wind or a creaky house or even a mouse in the walls.
She turned, pushing the panel shut with her shoulder, and palming the portrait as she did so.
The Duke of Montgomery, all golden hair and sharp blue eyes, and wearing a purple velvet suit, smiled at her from the armchair in the far corner of the room.
"A lovely woman in my bed, what a fetching surprise." He cocked his head, a corner of his beautiful mouth curving cruelly. "Tell me, Mrs. Crumb, what are you looking for?”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“When next Eve woke, the sun was shining through the windows. She blinked and realized a large male arm was thrown across her stomach, pinning her in place.
Oddly, she didn't panic.
Instead she gingerly removed the arm and slowly, carefully levered herself up to peer at her sleeping bedmate.
Asa Makepeace was on his back, his arms and legs spread wide and taking up most of the bed. A sunbeam struck his hair, making gold and red strands glint in the brown. Dark reddish brown hair stubbled his jaw. His lips were slightly parted and on each exhalation was the faintest suggestion of a snore.
Eve smiled at the sound and reached for the small sketchbook and pencil that always sat on the table beside her bed.
She settled back against the pillows and began drawing him: the slightly overlarge nose, the eyes unlined in sleep, the slack, beautiful mouth. How was it possible that this man she'd at first found merely irritating, overwhelmingly male- 'frightening'- should turn out to have so many sides to him? A lover of opera. A fighter of highwaymen. A shouter of arguments. A savior of stray dogs.
Stubborn, cynical, violent, and sometimes mean.
And yet a man who had tenderly shown her how to love.
No one had ever cared so much for her.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“And he bent and kissed her clitoris.
She froze because she'd had no idea what he was going to do and if she had-
He opened his mouth, licking her.
'Oh, God!'
One hand flew to her mouth. She bit down on her knuckles, trying to keep any sound from escaping. The other hand clutched at his hair, that tawny mane, as he ravished her with his mouth, licking, kissing, 'sucking.'
She gasped, unable to fill her lungs. What he was doing to her was diabolical, something supernatural, an act so extraordinary she wanted to squirm away.
Wanted to hold him there forever.
How was it possible that he could give her such pleasure?
He tongued her and she arched into his face, wanting, wanting, rubbing herself against him, noises from her throat escaping around her knuckles. She was hot, trembling, shaking, waiting for a transformation.
He opened his mouth wide over her, thrusting his tongue again and again against her clitoris.
She fell apart, exploding from her center, moaning mindlessly, her hands filled with his thick hair as he licked her relentlessly.
She was scattered, her mind blanking, for some long, unmeasurable time. She simply existed, a creature of wonderment.
And with all her parts finally resettled, when she unclenched her fingers from his hair, and gasped for breath, her body dewed with moisture, she knew:
She was born anew.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“She heard the door close as she examined the dog.
"You're looking much better," she told the animal. "Good enough that Jean-Marie might be able to take you outside to wash you. Oh, don't get up."
This last was said nervously as the dog climbed laboriously to his feet.
"Really, you shouldn't."
Eve watched wide-eyed as the animal staggered toward her.
"Sit back down, 'please,'" she said, arms raised, but the animal either didn't know what an order was or ignored hers. He walked unsteadily right to her as Eve glanced wildly toward the closed door, hoping that Jean-Marie would make a sudden, early reappearance.
And then the animal laid his big head on her knees.
"Oh," she said, for she had no idea what else to do. The dog was 'looking' at her with huge brown eyes, his forehead wrinkled up as though he was worried. His enormous drooping jowls were spread like a messy black skirt upon her lap, and the animal's triangular ears were back.
Actually it was rather adorable.
Hesitantly Eve laid her palm very gently on the beast's head.
Slowly the dog's tail swayed back and forth, and he gave a great sigh.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“He was watching her. As if her gaze was important to him as he worked himself.
As he touched his 'cock.'
She inhaled on the thought of the word, looking back down. He'd pushed his shirt out of the way with his other hand and she could see the flat muscles of his belly flexing as he worked himself. A tangle of dark hair surrounded his navel, narrowing abruptly below to a thin line that disappeared into the thicket of curls around his cock. He sat, spread-legged, still dressed in white shirt and gold waistcoat, his scarlet coat spread wide around his thighs. His feet were braced against the floorboards and she could see his hips begin to move, thrusting up into the steady rhythm of his fist.
He looked like a debauched satyr, all sex and male desire, and she had a sudden wish that he'd taken off 'all' of his clothes off. She wanted to see his nipples and his buttocks, wanted to discover the broad sweep of his nude chest.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“But I do admire your perseverance."
She rounded his table and gracefully sat at her desk, apparently unaware that he'd stopped dead, staring at her.
"You do?"
She was feeding the dove, which for some reason she'd brought with her this morning, but she looked up at his words, her face curious. "Yes, of course. A man who sets a course and proceeds to sail it, no matter the barriers or odds, is very admirable in my opinion."
"Ah." He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling unaccountably ill at ease. No one had told him what he was doing was good- that 'he' was good- since... well, since the death of Sir Stanley, his old mentor. "Thank you."
"You're welcome.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“Oh, he was glorious! He was everything she'd suspected- and feared- that first morning. His shoulders so wide, his chest swirled with wet, dark hair his hips slim, and his sex framed by the V of muscle that ran from the sides of his belly to his groin. His cock bobbed wetly, the foreskin already pulled taut under the head. His thighs were long and bulged with muscle, and even his feet were large and hairy.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“Oh, the slide of his cock inside her! It was a pleasure so deep it was nearly pain and she ground back down again, closing her eyes, savoring this purely physical joy.
Except it wasn't purely physical, was it? The thought that it was Asa inside her, Asa driving his hips up into her now, Asa begging her to go faster... oh, that was the addicting thought. She wanted to ride him, wanted to hide him away in her bedroom, to use only for herself.
She was jealous of every woman who had come before her. Had used this wonderful penis. Had heard his groan.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“I haven't room in my life for anything else."
"Or any'one' else?" She tilted her head, studying him. "That sounds... rather lonely."
One corner of his mouth kicked up, his green eyes suddenly amused. "Not as lonely as all that, I assure you. I have needs like any other man and I make sure to fulfill them."
She pursed her lips to hide the fact that her heart had sped up at the thought of his 'needs.' "I understand from Violetta that you are no longer... er... entertaining her."
"Ye-es," he drawled, his head laid back against the squabs. He was watching her from beneath lowered lids. The flickering lamplight reflected in his eyes. He'd sampled three or four pints of his brother's beer at the dinner, she'd noticed, and she wondered now if they were perhaps affecting him. "I suppose I'll have to find someone else to satisfy my desires."
She licked her lips nervously.
His gaze fixed on her mouth and his voice was deeper when he said, "Or I might have to satisfy myself.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“Then I suppose our discussion is done."
She turned to go, but he had a hard grip on her upper arm, pulling her back.
"Not yet it's not," he growled.
She fought down the old, nauseous fear. "Let go of me."
"Why?" He cocked his head, an ugly sneer on his beautiful lips. "Can't stand my touch?"
"Yes!" she tossed back, losing her patience, her self-control, and any upper hand she'd ever had in their argument.
Which was when he took her by the shoulders, pulled her roughly into his arms, and pressed his mouth to hers.
And Eve lost her sanity.


Eve Dinwoody's lips were soft and sweet, entirely belying her sharp and tart personality. For all of a half second Asa reveled in that yielding sweetness. He'd shut her up in the most basic, the most primitive way a man could a woman.
And then he realized something was very wrong.
He pulled back, his lip curled cynically. She was an aristocrat. She probably thought him bestial, base, dirty, and not worthy of her mouth.
No doubt she was disgusted by him.
But disgust wasn't what showed on her face.
It was fear.
White showed all around the blue irises of her eyes, and there were pale indents on the sides of her nostrils. Her expression reminded him of what she'd looked like when he'd found her with the dog, but this was worse- much worse. She wasn't making a sound.
"Eve."
Her brows creased and the most horrible sound came from her lips.
She whimpered.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“He looked back at Eve, holding out his hand. "Come on, then."
She looked between him and his hand, pressing her lips together, but not moving.
He frowned. "Eve."
She inhaled and took his hand, awkwardly inching toward him without a sound.
"Brave lass," Asa purred.
He caught her other hand, ignoring her flinch, and pulled her into his arms. What a small thing she was! She might be tall, but Eve's body was as light as a bird's. He could feel the delicate bones of her shoulder, the slender span of her waist, and he thanked God that she'd not been crushed by the planks falling on her.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“Asa looked up, drawing a deep breath, and saw that his harpy wasn't amused by his laughter.
"I don't think why you find the thought of me helping with your books so funny," she said in a stiff little voice. "Or, for that matter, letting me paint you." Her mouth- the only soft part of her, as far as he could tell- trembled a bit.
Well, he hadn't meant to hurt her feelings.
"Don't worry about it, luv," he said, tearing off a bite of the bread with his teeth. "You'll find out soon enough when you see my books. As for the other-" he set down the piece of bread and shrugged off his coat- "do you want to start now?"
That got him a wide-eyed look, and he couldn't help but grin at her, mouth obnoxiously full, as he began unbuttoning his waistcoat. Had the lady bitten off more than she could chew?
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice high and a bit panicked. He opened his eyes in mock innocence as he yanked his shirt from his breeches. "Stop that at once."
"Why?" he asked curiously, his fingers still on his lifted shirt. Her gaze darted to his bared navel and then away again like that of a sweet canary frightened by an ugly alley cat. "You said you wanted me to 'model' for you.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“Tell me, Mr. Harte, do you ever give up?"
"Never." His green eyes narrowed as his mouth firmed. He looked very much as he had when he'd struck Mr. Sherwood: savage, uncompromising, a force to be reckoned with.
She should be afraid of this man. Perhaps she was. Perhaps the hammering of her heart, the quickening of her breath were fear.
But if she were, she chose to disregard it. "Very well."
He sat back, a wide, lopsided grin spreading over his face, just as Ruth entered with another tray.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“He rose up over her, his arms straight on either side of her shoulders, and slowly withdrew, his flesh dragging against hers.
He was hot and hard.
She spread her thighs, reveling in this lush feeling, his thrusts blunt and hard now, pounding into her body.
And still he watched her, the green of his eyes slivers of want, demanding something of her. Something she was no longer willing to give, it was just too much.
When at last she came, her breaths hitching and halting, her legs trembling, her sex pulsing with every push of his cock, she watched him. She saw when he gritted his teeth, his lips drawn back in need and pleasure.
He shouted her name, loud in her quiet bedroom, as his big body jerked and plunged and emptied itself in her.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“She shifted until his cock was under her. She rubbed herself against him, using his hard flesh to pleasure herself.
He arched under her, this big strong man. The tendons of his neck stood out; he flung wide his arms and clutched at the bedclothes. "Eve, what you do to me."
She watched him and slowly reached down to pull her sodden chemise up, up over her belly, over her breasts, over her head, undulating on him all the while.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“His knee pressed between her thighs, bunching the linen against her woman's place, spreading her and rubbing into her folds.
She found herself undulating against that knee, pleasuring herself with his hard, hot, wet body.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“Eve Dinwoody would never be called pretty, but there was something alluring about her nonetheless. She had the sort of plainness that surpassed mere symmetry of feature, transcended simple beauty, and became quietly compelling.
And when she smiled at him like that? With joy and happiness and a sort of peace?
She was radiant.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel

“Fine. You can pull away from me for now. You can keep your distance and shake. But Eve, I'll not let you do it forever."
She looked up at that, blue eyes wide and startled. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he said, a deep sense of rightness spreading through him even as he gathered the words, "that I won't let this stand. I will touch you. Sometime. Somewhere. I'm going to touch you all over, Eve, and what's more, you'll enjoy it."
His voice had deepened as he'd spoken until the last words of his mouth left his mouth in a purring rumble.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Sweetest Scoundrel