Susan Napier

“Use me, Grace. If that’s what we’ve been doing so far, I love it. I want to be used. Now.’ He stretched, a long ripple of pure muscle as he invited her in a throaty purr that wrapped itself around her heart and drew her irresistibly towards him, the craving stronger than anger or fear. ‘You can insult me, hurt me, hate me… test me any way you like. I’m strong. I’m not going to run away just because things aren’t perfect between us…”
― Susan Napier, Secret Admirer

“She wasn’t aware of the rip he made in the back of her dress when his shaking hands wrenched the zip down, only of the molten sensuality of his gaze as he steered her into a shaft of light near the window and studied her breasts, nestled in their cups of pure white lace.
’Sweet…pretty…did you wear this for me?’ he asked thickly, roughly tracing the outline of the lace across the curving swells. ‘Did you want me to take off your dress tonight, Grace? To admire you like this?’
’I…’ His arousal was so flatteringly intense that she couldn’t deny him the truth. ‘Yes…’ She closed her eyes, gasping as she felt the stroke of his thumbs across the seams, finding the rigid tips that were evidence of her own desire.”
― Susan Napier, Secret Admirer