" You need, my love. He kissed her gently. Kiss me, my chest. Let me feel that your need is as great as my own.
It was sheer black magic, an erotic whisper of seduction she seemed helpless to resist. Her mouth tasted his skin, lingered, found his throat, the heavy muscles of his chest. Jacques knew he was playing with fire. His body could not take much more. His hand caught the nape of her neck, pressed her head to him. You hunger, my love.
Self-preservation interceded, and her body stiffened.
Jacques’ voice was purity itself. You will take what I freely offer. It is my right, and you cannot deny me. "

― Christine Feehan , Dark Desire (Dark, #2)