Come and Kiss My Thigh and Mouth Until Im Wet Again
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Passionate Buss Quotes
Quotes tagged as "passionate-kiss" Showing 1-30 of 50
"He approached her, his voice taking on a seductive tenor. "Shall we seal it with a kiss, and then?"
Callie caught her jiff and stiffened at the question. Ralston smiled at her obvious nerves. He ran a finger along the edge of her hairline, tucking a rogue lock of hair behind her ear gently. She looked up at him with her wide brownish optics, and he felt a burst of tenderness in his chest. He leaned close, moving slowly, as though she might scare at any moment, and his business firm mouth brushed across hers, settling briefly, barely touching earlier she jumped dorsum, one manus flying to her lips.
He leveled her with a frank gaze and waited for her to speak. When she didn't, he asked, "Is there a problem?"
"Northward-No!" she said, a bear on too loudly. "Non at all, my lord. That is- Thank y'all."
His breath exhaled on a one-half express joy. "I'm agape that you have mistaken the experience." He paused, watching the defoliation cross her face. "You see, when I agree to something, I do information technology wholeheartedly. That was non the kiss for which you lot came, little mouse."
Callie wrinkled her nose at his words, and at the nickname he had used for her. "Information technology wasn't?"
"No."
Her nervousness flared, and she resumed toying with her cloak tassel. "Oh, well. It was quite nice. I detect I am quite satisfied that you take held up your end of our bargain."
"Quite nice isn't what y'all should exist aiming for," he said, taking her restless hands into his own and allowing his voice to deepen. "Neither should the kiss leave you satisfied."
She tugged briefly, giving up when he would not gratuitous her and instead pulled her closer, setting her hands upon his shoulders. He trailed his fingers down her neck, leaving her breathless, her voice a mere squeak when she replied, "How should it go out me?"
He kissed her then. Really kissed her.
He pulled her against him and pressed his mouth to hers, possessing, owning in a way she could never have imagined. His lips, firm and warm, played across her own, tempting her until she was gasping for breath. He captured the sound in his mouth, taking advantage of her open lips to run his tongue along them, tasting her lightly until she couldn't bear the teasing. He seemed to read her thoughts, and simply when she couldn't stand some other moment, he gathered her closer and deepened the buss, changing the pressure. He delved deeper, stroked more firmly.
And she was lost.
Callie was consumed, finding herself drastic to friction match his movements. Her hands seemed to move of their own volition, running along his wide shoulders and wrapping around his neck. Tentatively, she met Ralston's natural language with her own and was rewarded with a satisfied sound from deep in his pharynx as he tightened his grip, sending another moving ridge of heat through her. He retreated, and she followed, matching his movements until his lips airtight scandalously around her natural language and he sucked gently- the sensation rocked her to her core. All at once she was aglow."
― Nine Rules to Pause When Romancing a Rake
Callie caught her jiff and stiffened at the question. Ralston smiled at her obvious nerves. He ran a finger along the edge of her hairline, tucking a rogue lock of hair behind her ear gently. She looked up at him with her wide brownish optics, and he felt a burst of tenderness in his chest. He leaned close, moving slowly, as though she might scare at any moment, and his business firm mouth brushed across hers, settling briefly, barely touching earlier she jumped dorsum, one manus flying to her lips.
He leveled her with a frank gaze and waited for her to speak. When she didn't, he asked, "Is there a problem?"
"Northward-No!" she said, a bear on too loudly. "Non at all, my lord. That is- Thank y'all."
His breath exhaled on a one-half express joy. "I'm agape that you have mistaken the experience." He paused, watching the defoliation cross her face. "You see, when I agree to something, I do information technology wholeheartedly. That was non the kiss for which you lot came, little mouse."
Callie wrinkled her nose at his words, and at the nickname he had used for her. "Information technology wasn't?"
"No."
Her nervousness flared, and she resumed toying with her cloak tassel. "Oh, well. It was quite nice. I detect I am quite satisfied that you take held up your end of our bargain."
"Quite nice isn't what y'all should exist aiming for," he said, taking her restless hands into his own and allowing his voice to deepen. "Neither should the kiss leave you satisfied."
She tugged briefly, giving up when he would not gratuitous her and instead pulled her closer, setting her hands upon his shoulders. He trailed his fingers down her neck, leaving her breathless, her voice a mere squeak when she replied, "How should it go out me?"
He kissed her then. Really kissed her.
He pulled her against him and pressed his mouth to hers, possessing, owning in a way she could never have imagined. His lips, firm and warm, played across her own, tempting her until she was gasping for breath. He captured the sound in his mouth, taking advantage of her open lips to run his tongue along them, tasting her lightly until she couldn't bear the teasing. He seemed to read her thoughts, and simply when she couldn't stand some other moment, he gathered her closer and deepened the buss, changing the pressure. He delved deeper, stroked more firmly.
And she was lost.
Callie was consumed, finding herself drastic to friction match his movements. Her hands seemed to move of their own volition, running along his wide shoulders and wrapping around his neck. Tentatively, she met Ralston's natural language with her own and was rewarded with a satisfied sound from deep in his pharynx as he tightened his grip, sending another moving ridge of heat through her. He retreated, and she followed, matching his movements until his lips airtight scandalously around her natural language and he sucked gently- the sensation rocked her to her core. All at once she was aglow."
― Nine Rules to Pause When Romancing a Rake
"There were no such stipulations fabricated when we discussed the agreement."
"Nor were they expressly not fabricated. I am making them at present. You received what yous requested. Or, have y'all forgotten?" The words sent a shiver down her spine. He was standing behind her, and she could feel the warm kiss of his jiff on her blank neck, sending a river of heat through her.
"I take non forgotten." The words came unbidden, and she closed her eyes.
He laid a hand on her arm and, with virtually no force per unit area, turned her face to him. When he met her eyes, the acrimony that had been at that place was gone, replaced by something much more complex. "Neither have I. And non for lack of trying."
Earlier she could begin to consider the meaning behind his words, he settled his mouth upon hers, robbing her of idea.
"I've tried to forget that kiss... and the railroad vehicle ride... and the fencing club... but you seem to have taken up residence... in my memory."
Equally he spoke betwixt long, drugging kisses that consumed her senses, he guided Callie across the report and into a large chair near the fireplace. Kneeling in forepart of her, he cupped one cheek in a stiff, warm hand, and met her gaze with a searing wait. Shaking his caput as though he couldn't quite empathize what had come up over him, he kissed her again, growling low in the dorsum of his pharynx. Her hands found their way into his thick, night hair as he caught her lesser lip in his teeth, nibbling and licking at it until she thought she might perish from the intensity of the feeling. She whimpered at the sensation, and he rewarded the sound past deepening the osculation, giving her everything she desired.
He broke off the kiss equally one of his hands found its mode nether her skirts, caressing up the inside of her leg. He shifted her against him, running his lips across her cheek to the gyre of her ear, sucking and nibbling and licking as he spoke to her, the scandalous words more awareness than audio.
"Such soft pare..." he said, every bit his fingers played along the inside of her thighs, driving her mad with desire as oestrus pooled at their juncture. "I've been wondering what you felt similar hither..." He shifted to gain amend access to the skin high on the inside of her thighs, so shut to the spot where she most wanted him. "Now that I know... I'thousand going to be consumed with thoughts of how this soft, lovely skin will feel against me..." He placed a soft, lush osculation on the column of her neck as his hand moved higher, closer to the heart of her."
― 9 Rules to Interruption When Romancing a Rake
"Nor were they expressly not fabricated. I am making them at present. You received what yous requested. Or, have y'all forgotten?" The words sent a shiver down her spine. He was standing behind her, and she could feel the warm kiss of his jiff on her blank neck, sending a river of heat through her.
"I take non forgotten." The words came unbidden, and she closed her eyes.
He laid a hand on her arm and, with virtually no force per unit area, turned her face to him. When he met her eyes, the acrimony that had been at that place was gone, replaced by something much more complex. "Neither have I. And non for lack of trying."
Earlier she could begin to consider the meaning behind his words, he settled his mouth upon hers, robbing her of idea.
"I've tried to forget that kiss... and the railroad vehicle ride... and the fencing club... but you seem to have taken up residence... in my memory."
Equally he spoke betwixt long, drugging kisses that consumed her senses, he guided Callie across the report and into a large chair near the fireplace. Kneeling in forepart of her, he cupped one cheek in a stiff, warm hand, and met her gaze with a searing wait. Shaking his caput as though he couldn't quite empathize what had come up over him, he kissed her again, growling low in the dorsum of his pharynx. Her hands found their way into his thick, night hair as he caught her lesser lip in his teeth, nibbling and licking at it until she thought she might perish from the intensity of the feeling. She whimpered at the sensation, and he rewarded the sound past deepening the osculation, giving her everything she desired.
He broke off the kiss equally one of his hands found its mode nether her skirts, caressing up the inside of her leg. He shifted her against him, running his lips across her cheek to the gyre of her ear, sucking and nibbling and licking as he spoke to her, the scandalous words more awareness than audio.
"Such soft pare..." he said, every bit his fingers played along the inside of her thighs, driving her mad with desire as oestrus pooled at their juncture. "I've been wondering what you felt similar hither..." He shifted to gain amend access to the skin high on the inside of her thighs, so shut to the spot where she most wanted him. "Now that I know... I'thousand going to be consumed with thoughts of how this soft, lovely skin will feel against me..." He placed a soft, lush osculation on the column of her neck as his hand moved higher, closer to the heart of her."
― 9 Rules to Interruption When Romancing a Rake
"Val turned, still naked, still impossibly beautiful. Only the gore spattered on his abdomen, chest, and arm, marred his perfection.
He walked toward her and she couldn't help it. She backed away from him.
He smiled.
Sweetly. Like a boy. The dagger notwithstanding in his left hand. And caught her arm with his correct paw.
"This is who I am, Séraphine. Naked, with bract and blood. I am vengeance. I am hate. I am sin personified. Never error me for the hero of this tale, for I am not and shall never exist. I am the villain."
And he laid his lips over hers and pushed his hot tongue into her mouth and kissed her until she couldn't exhale and it was but after that she found the bloodstains on her dress.
He walked toward her and she couldn't help it. She backed away from him.
He smiled.
Sweetly. Like a boy. The dagger notwithstanding in his left hand. And caught her arm with his correct paw.
"This is who I am, Séraphine. Naked, with bract and blood. I am vengeance. I am hate. I am sin personified. Never error me for the hero of this tale, for I am not and shall never exist. I am the villain."
And he laid his lips over hers and pushed his hot tongue into her mouth and kissed her until she couldn't exhale and it was but after that she found the bloodstains on her dress.
Her lips had been sweet, like ripe figs, her oral fissure a cavern of please. But her eyes- those dark inquisitor's optics- had held but horror and disgust.
Val sipped his Mainland china tea the next morning and gazed out the window. The sun shone on his garden, giving the illusion of warmth, though his empty chest was ice-common cold.
He could have explained to her that a razor-sharp bract was kinder than a hangman'southward noose. That death delivered in seconds with a few thrusts was preferable to a laughing, jabbering mob, gleeful at the jerking, agonizing execution.
But those saint's optics would've seen the hypocrisy."
― Duke of Sin
"As he turned dorsum to her, Cassandra stood on her toes to kiss him. He claimed his advantage immediately, fitting his oral cavity to hers and taking a long, ardent gustation. Her head swam, and she welcomed the exploration of his tongue. He savored and consumed her, with a kiss more aggressive than any he'd given her before. Information technology made her knees weak and turned her basic fluid. Her body listed toward his and was instantly gathered into the difficult urgency of his embrace. Want curled through her in hot tendrils that insinuated themselves in deep, private places. Her pharynx defenseless on a whimper of protestation as his mouth lifted from hers.
"Nosotros'd better start negotiating," he said raggedly. "The first event is how much time you'll desire to spend with me."
"All of it," Cassandra said, and sought his lips again.
Tom chuckled. "I would. I... oh, you lot're so sweetness... no, I'm... God. It's time to stop. Really." He crushed his oral fissure against her hair to avoid her kisses. "You're near to exist deflowered in the library."
"Didn't that already happen?" she asked, and felt the shape of his smile.
"No," he whispered, "you lot're still a virgin. Albeit slightly more experienced than 2 days agone." He brought his oral fissure closer to her ear. "Did you like what I did?"
She nodded, her face turning so hot that she could feel her cheeks throb. "I wanted more."
"I'd like to requite you more than. As soon as possible."
― Chasing Cassandra
"Nosotros'd better start negotiating," he said raggedly. "The first event is how much time you'll desire to spend with me."
"All of it," Cassandra said, and sought his lips again.
Tom chuckled. "I would. I... oh, you lot're so sweetness... no, I'm... God. It's time to stop. Really." He crushed his oral fissure against her hair to avoid her kisses. "You're near to exist deflowered in the library."
"Didn't that already happen?" she asked, and felt the shape of his smile.
"No," he whispered, "you lot're still a virgin. Albeit slightly more experienced than 2 days agone." He brought his oral fissure closer to her ear. "Did you like what I did?"
She nodded, her face turning so hot that she could feel her cheeks throb. "I wanted more."
"I'd like to requite you more than. As soon as possible."
― Chasing Cassandra
"In a few minutes, Due west had pinned Phoebe against a corner wall of the winter garden, in a sheltered space of stone and feathery leaves. He possessed her with passion-roughened kisses, virtually eating at her oral fissure, greedily drawing in the honeysuckle taste of her. Her skin was milk-white with gold flecks, smoothness quivering at the stroke of his tongue."
― Devil's Girl
― Devil's Girl
"There is nothing simple about allure."
"Nevertheless-" She stopped, unable to call back what information technology was she was trying to say. He was close.
"Shall I show you lot how complicated allure can be?" The words were deep and velvety, the sound of temptation. His lips were nearly on hers, she could feel their movement as he spoke, barely brushing confronting her.
He waited, hovering simply above her, for her to reply. She was consumed with an unbearable demand to bear upon him. She tried to speak, but no words came. She couldn't course thoughts. He had invaded her senses, leaving her with no other choice but to shut the scant distance between them.
The moment their lips touched, Ralston took over, his arms coming effectually her and dragging her into his lap to beget him improve admission to her. This kiss was vastly different than their first one- it was heavier, more than intense, less careful. This kiss was a force of nature. Callie moaned equally his hand ran upwards the side of her neck cupping her jaw, tilting her caput to meliorate align their mouths. His lips played across hers, his tongue running along them before he pulled abroad only barely and searched her one-half-lidded eyes. A ghost of a grinning crossed his lips.
"So passionate," he whispered against her lips as he drove his fingers into her hair, scattering hairpins and sending her curls tumbling around them. "So eager. Open for me."
And then he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, and she did open for him, matching him stroke for stroke, caress for caress. She became caught in a web of long, boring, drugging kisses, and all she could think was that she had to be closer to him."
― Ix Rules to Pause When Romancing a Rake
"Nevertheless-" She stopped, unable to call back what information technology was she was trying to say. He was close.
"Shall I show you lot how complicated allure can be?" The words were deep and velvety, the sound of temptation. His lips were nearly on hers, she could feel their movement as he spoke, barely brushing confronting her.
He waited, hovering simply above her, for her to reply. She was consumed with an unbearable demand to bear upon him. She tried to speak, but no words came. She couldn't course thoughts. He had invaded her senses, leaving her with no other choice but to shut the scant distance between them.
The moment their lips touched, Ralston took over, his arms coming effectually her and dragging her into his lap to beget him improve admission to her. This kiss was vastly different than their first one- it was heavier, more than intense, less careful. This kiss was a force of nature. Callie moaned equally his hand ran upwards the side of her neck cupping her jaw, tilting her caput to meliorate align their mouths. His lips played across hers, his tongue running along them before he pulled abroad only barely and searched her one-half-lidded eyes. A ghost of a grinning crossed his lips.
"So passionate," he whispered against her lips as he drove his fingers into her hair, scattering hairpins and sending her curls tumbling around them. "So eager. Open for me."
And then he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, and she did open for him, matching him stroke for stroke, caress for caress. She became caught in a web of long, boring, drugging kisses, and all she could think was that she had to be closer to him."
― Ix Rules to Pause When Romancing a Rake
"People gave up too shortly on dreams and promise, but both were there, if y'all kept your eyes open. With that truth in mind, she returned to the world only to find her own eyes were so tear-filled, she might as well have been submerged fifty feet underwater. "Aye, I will ally you, John," she heard herself say. "Of course, I volition. You kidding me?" She laughed and wiped her eyes, no longer fifty anxiety underwater only skimming the surface of a bang-up, churning sea. John reached upward and kissed her, and they stayed like that for a infinitesimal, a calendar month, a millennium."
― The Magnolia That Bloomed Unseen
― The Magnolia That Bloomed Unseen
"Why so was he taking her? Was it but for his ain amusement- or was it for some other, more than sinister reason?
Afterwards all, only two days before she'd seen him kill a footman in cold blood. Of course Cal had tried to kill the knuckles in a particularly awful and barbarous fashion. Only then afterward the duke had kissed her equally she'd never been kissed in all her life. His natural language had tasted of wine and sin and she'd wanted to moan and rub herself against him every bit he'd tilted her back over his arm."
― Duke of Sin
Afterwards all, only two days before she'd seen him kill a footman in cold blood. Of course Cal had tried to kill the knuckles in a particularly awful and barbarous fashion. Only then afterward the duke had kissed her equally she'd never been kissed in all her life. His natural language had tasted of wine and sin and she'd wanted to moan and rub herself against him every bit he'd tilted her back over his arm."
― Duke of Sin
"I'one thousand not lovely," she blurted out.
One side of his rima oris kicked upwardly. "Now, there," he said quietly, searching her face as if to memorize this new Callie, whom he'd simply discovered, "I shall have to disagree."
And then he set his lips to hers and she was drugged past his cuddle and his words, both equally intoxicating. This kiss was dissimilar from all that they had shared earlier- softer, seeking, as though they were both discovering something birthday new. This was a concert of stroking tongue and soft lips. Gabriel lifted his head and waited for her to open her eyes; when she did, he was struck in one case more past her loveliness. He searched her face, watching as she returned from the sensual identify where the osculation had taken her.
"You said I was plainly."
He shook his head slowly, marveling at the clear, brown depths of emotion in her eyes. "There is nada plain about you." And and so, he kissed her again.
Her rima oris was his banquet. He sipped at her lips, savoring their taste, their softness. Her easily constitute their way around his neck and into his hair- threading through the dark locks. The caress sent a shiver of pleasure through him. He ate at her, nibbling at her lips before gently laving the worried skin there with his tongue. When he pulled abroad and met her eyes again, they were both animate heavily, and Gabriel was wishing that they were anywhere simply here, hundreds of Londoners mere anxiety abroad.
He had to stop. He was about to practice exactly what he had resolved not to practice. Had he not promised himself that he would not compromise her again? He owed her more than. Improve.
A vision flashed in his mind of Callie naked, spread before him in a pool of sunlight, and he pushed it aside. This was no time to indulge in fantasies that would further agitate him- every bit it was, his excitement was embarrassingly obvious in his breeches."
― Nine Rules to Intermission When Romancing a Rake
One side of his rima oris kicked upwardly. "Now, there," he said quietly, searching her face as if to memorize this new Callie, whom he'd simply discovered, "I shall have to disagree."
And then he set his lips to hers and she was drugged past his cuddle and his words, both equally intoxicating. This kiss was dissimilar from all that they had shared earlier- softer, seeking, as though they were both discovering something birthday new. This was a concert of stroking tongue and soft lips. Gabriel lifted his head and waited for her to open her eyes; when she did, he was struck in one case more past her loveliness. He searched her face, watching as she returned from the sensual identify where the osculation had taken her.
"You said I was plainly."
He shook his head slowly, marveling at the clear, brown depths of emotion in her eyes. "There is nada plain about you." And and so, he kissed her again.
Her rima oris was his banquet. He sipped at her lips, savoring their taste, their softness. Her easily constitute their way around his neck and into his hair- threading through the dark locks. The caress sent a shiver of pleasure through him. He ate at her, nibbling at her lips before gently laving the worried skin there with his tongue. When he pulled abroad and met her eyes again, they were both animate heavily, and Gabriel was wishing that they were anywhere simply here, hundreds of Londoners mere anxiety abroad.
He had to stop. He was about to practice exactly what he had resolved not to practice. Had he not promised himself that he would not compromise her again? He owed her more than. Improve.
A vision flashed in his mind of Callie naked, spread before him in a pool of sunlight, and he pushed it aside. This was no time to indulge in fantasies that would further agitate him- every bit it was, his excitement was embarrassingly obvious in his breeches."
― Nine Rules to Intermission When Romancing a Rake
"She had known that he could move quickly. Still it was a stupor when she found herself pressed against the back of her seat, his confront inches from her.
"God's blood, woman, how much control exercise you lot think I have?" he whispered, his clove-scented breath brushing her confront. "You must think me a saint by the style yous harangue me despite my warnings. Listen and mind well: I am no saint."
"But I don't need a saint," she breathed, her voice trembling. "I don't want a saint. I want you."
"God forgive me," he snarled, and pulled her mouth to his.
His kiss wasn't gentle. He opened her lips with his tongue, invading her angrily. Passionately. How had she ever thought this homo uninterested in bedding her?
His big, hot torso pressed her against the seat and he scraped his teeth over her lesser lip."
― Duke of Desire
"God's blood, woman, how much control exercise you lot think I have?" he whispered, his clove-scented breath brushing her confront. "You must think me a saint by the style yous harangue me despite my warnings. Listen and mind well: I am no saint."
"But I don't need a saint," she breathed, her voice trembling. "I don't want a saint. I want you."
"God forgive me," he snarled, and pulled her mouth to his.
His kiss wasn't gentle. He opened her lips with his tongue, invading her angrily. Passionately. How had she ever thought this homo uninterested in bedding her?
His big, hot torso pressed her against the seat and he scraped his teeth over her lesser lip."
― Duke of Desire
"We won! Nosotros won!" Daisy jumped up and down and threw her arms effectually Liam, virtually knocking him over as she pressed her lips to his in a delighted kiss.
Her lips were soft and warm and sweet with chocolate. The stupor of them short-circuited his brain and for a moment he couldn't breathe. And and so he was pressing her lips apart, hungry for her, desperate for more than.
She softened against him, sighed. He braced himself for her to retreat, but instead, she tightened her arms around him and kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his as she explored his mouth.
"Pizza!"
She pulled away, leaving him floundering, his encephalon struggling to empathise why someone was shoving a box in his confront when all he wanted was her sweetness lips and her soft torso and her sigh of surrender.
"Pizza selfie." Daisy held upward her telephone and took a picture of them with the pizza box angled in the corner. She laughed when she showed him the screen. This time he was the ane who looked mazed."
― The Dating Program
Her lips were soft and warm and sweet with chocolate. The stupor of them short-circuited his brain and for a moment he couldn't breathe. And and so he was pressing her lips apart, hungry for her, desperate for more than.
She softened against him, sighed. He braced himself for her to retreat, but instead, she tightened her arms around him and kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his as she explored his mouth.
"Pizza!"
She pulled away, leaving him floundering, his encephalon struggling to empathise why someone was shoving a box in his confront when all he wanted was her sweetness lips and her soft torso and her sigh of surrender.
"Pizza selfie." Daisy held upward her telephone and took a picture of them with the pizza box angled in the corner. She laughed when she showed him the screen. This time he was the ane who looked mazed."
― The Dating Program
"He couldn't resist her. He didn't desire to.
In torturously slow degrees, he lowered his head toward hers. Every sense, every nerve in his torso was focused on the next few moments. He knew he would want to enjoy the memory of this, the offset time he had kissed Lily.
He pressed his lips to hers gently at first, not knowing what to look. Merely even such a light affect sent a swift rush of sensation through him. Information technology was different anything he had ever known. Delicate and passionate at one time. The silken texture of her lips, her pliant softness, the picayune moan that caught in her throat.
It stunned him. Stopped his breath and jolted his eye.
Intent upon exploring this new feel, he shifted the pressure of his mouth, brushing his lips across hers before he flicked his natural language out to impact merely the center of her bottom lip. Her lips parted on a sudden exhale. Her warm breath mingled with his. Something more than want coursed through his blood.
He lifted his hands to grasp her shoulders, and with a groan, he crushed her mouth with his.
A voice in his head demanded he slow down, relish the sensations. But he was too desperate to know more than. He tilted his caput, craving the taste of her as though information technology could save his soul. He swept his tongue by her teeth, sliding it into the recesses of her mouth. She tasted of innocence and shadows, and he was ravenous for her.
It shocked him- that desperate, obsessive need to consume her, to take all that she was into himself. To make what was hers, his. Her breath, her taste, her softness, and her need."
― The Untouchable Earl
In torturously slow degrees, he lowered his head toward hers. Every sense, every nerve in his torso was focused on the next few moments. He knew he would want to enjoy the memory of this, the offset time he had kissed Lily.
He pressed his lips to hers gently at first, not knowing what to look. Merely even such a light affect sent a swift rush of sensation through him. Information technology was different anything he had ever known. Delicate and passionate at one time. The silken texture of her lips, her pliant softness, the picayune moan that caught in her throat.
It stunned him. Stopped his breath and jolted his eye.
Intent upon exploring this new feel, he shifted the pressure of his mouth, brushing his lips across hers before he flicked his natural language out to impact merely the center of her bottom lip. Her lips parted on a sudden exhale. Her warm breath mingled with his. Something more than want coursed through his blood.
He lifted his hands to grasp her shoulders, and with a groan, he crushed her mouth with his.
A voice in his head demanded he slow down, relish the sensations. But he was too desperate to know more than. He tilted his caput, craving the taste of her as though information technology could save his soul. He swept his tongue by her teeth, sliding it into the recesses of her mouth. She tasted of innocence and shadows, and he was ravenous for her.
It shocked him- that desperate, obsessive need to consume her, to take all that she was into himself. To make what was hers, his. Her breath, her taste, her softness, and her need."
― The Untouchable Earl
"Avenell." His name was a whisper, a sigh, a sacred vow on her lips.
The ache inside him deepened. He knew what she wanted. Somehow, he always knew. Despite the truth he had to acknowledge, he was unable to deny her.
He lowered his head to take the words from her, pressing his mouth to hers as her eyes fell closed. Lifting his mitt, he cradled the side of her face, indulging in the smooth warmth of her cheek confronting his palm and the way her pulse fluttered where the pad of his little finger rested below her earlobe.
She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, and he responded with a sensual sweep of his tongue.
No matter how many times they had come together in the last couple of weeks, the heat never dissipated. The urgency and the passion seemed to abound.
It was too much and yet would never exist enough.
She began to lean into him, and though he tensed when she pressed against his chest, he did not stop her. Nor did he object when her hands came up to rest on either side of his lower rib cage. He simply breathed more than securely of her scent, allowing the essence that was Lily to overwhelm his senses.
After a few long minutes, he drew back to rest his forehead against hers. He could not resist the temptation of savoring that moment."
― The Untouchable Earl
The ache inside him deepened. He knew what she wanted. Somehow, he always knew. Despite the truth he had to acknowledge, he was unable to deny her.
He lowered his head to take the words from her, pressing his mouth to hers as her eyes fell closed. Lifting his mitt, he cradled the side of her face, indulging in the smooth warmth of her cheek confronting his palm and the way her pulse fluttered where the pad of his little finger rested below her earlobe.
She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, and he responded with a sensual sweep of his tongue.
No matter how many times they had come together in the last couple of weeks, the heat never dissipated. The urgency and the passion seemed to abound.
It was too much and yet would never exist enough.
She began to lean into him, and though he tensed when she pressed against his chest, he did not stop her. Nor did he object when her hands came up to rest on either side of his lower rib cage. He simply breathed more than securely of her scent, allowing the essence that was Lily to overwhelm his senses.
After a few long minutes, he drew back to rest his forehead against hers. He could not resist the temptation of savoring that moment."
― The Untouchable Earl
"It'due south tempting. I can encounter why those Ottomans hide their women. If I could, I might dress y'all in silk- deep-red silk- and put you abroad where no other man might run across you."
She turned her head to glare at him, those dark optics sparking. "I shouldn't like that."
He smiled at her fondly, almost sadly. This woman- why did he want this adult female so very much?
"I know." He sipped at her lips lightly- so lightly. "And yet, as I say, tempting."
He caught her lips with his, widening her mouth, tasting cerise wine and gravy, apples, and her, all her. Bridget, Séraphine, her.
Her.
Her.
Her."
― Duke of Sin
She turned her head to glare at him, those dark optics sparking. "I shouldn't like that."
He smiled at her fondly, almost sadly. This woman- why did he want this adult female so very much?
"I know." He sipped at her lips lightly- so lightly. "And yet, as I say, tempting."
He caught her lips with his, widening her mouth, tasting cerise wine and gravy, apples, and her, all her. Bridget, Séraphine, her.
Her.
Her.
Her."
― Duke of Sin
"I will not be told what to do by a notorious- and now proven- rake and libertine."
He lost his temper so, capturing her hand, wagging finger and all, in his own and using information technology to pull her affluent confronting him. "If I am to be labeled as such, I may likewise stop resisting the part." And, with that, he kissed her.
She fought him, wriggling under the strength of his kiss, but no matter which direction she turned, he was there, all strong arms and firm muscle and hard, unyielding oral fissure. Her fists pounded on his shoulders fleetingly before he grasped her waist with both easily and lifted her from the ground- leaving her with no choice simply to cling to him as he pressed her confronting the wall. She gasped in surprise at the sudden movement, and he took the opportunity to plunder her oral fissure, both hands cupping her face, stealing her breath.
She matched his movements with lips and tongue and teeth, refusing to let him the upper manus, even in this. Stroke for stroke, where he went, she followed. He captured her sighs with his rima oris; she reveled in his low hum of pleasure. After several intense moments of the sensual battle, his lips gentled, caressing hers as his tongue stroked along the soft, sensitive peel of her lower lip, ending the kiss infinitely more than gently than it had begun.
The caress wrung a little cry from Callie, and Ralston smiled at the sound, pressing a terminal, soft kiss at the corner of her oral cavity."
― Nine Rules to Interruption When Romancing a Rake
He lost his temper so, capturing her hand, wagging finger and all, in his own and using information technology to pull her affluent confronting him. "If I am to be labeled as such, I may likewise stop resisting the part." And, with that, he kissed her.
She fought him, wriggling under the strength of his kiss, but no matter which direction she turned, he was there, all strong arms and firm muscle and hard, unyielding oral fissure. Her fists pounded on his shoulders fleetingly before he grasped her waist with both easily and lifted her from the ground- leaving her with no choice simply to cling to him as he pressed her confronting the wall. She gasped in surprise at the sudden movement, and he took the opportunity to plunder her oral fissure, both hands cupping her face, stealing her breath.
She matched his movements with lips and tongue and teeth, refusing to let him the upper manus, even in this. Stroke for stroke, where he went, she followed. He captured her sighs with his rima oris; she reveled in his low hum of pleasure. After several intense moments of the sensual battle, his lips gentled, caressing hers as his tongue stroked along the soft, sensitive peel of her lower lip, ending the kiss infinitely more than gently than it had begun.
The caress wrung a little cry from Callie, and Ralston smiled at the sound, pressing a terminal, soft kiss at the corner of her oral cavity."
― Nine Rules to Interruption When Romancing a Rake
"He sipped at her lips, teasing her with little nibbling kisses along her soft, full bottom lip before taking her mouth in a deep, passionate buss that weakened her knees. His silken tongue stroked forth her bottom lip, delving inside to taste her sweetness. She sighed into his mouth, eager for more than, desperate for them to be anywhere but here- anywhere where they could revel in each other. She pressed closer to him, eager for more of his warmth, and as a ribbon of fire curled in her stomach, he emitted a low growl in the back of his throat."
― Nine Rules to Interruption When Romancing a Rake
― Nine Rules to Interruption When Romancing a Rake
"Pascal and I talked the whole nighttime, and at the stop of it, he walked me back to my apartment. We were tired, yet not every bit drunk as I would have thought. I wanted to touch him and felt like he wanted to touch me, too. The air in the late, late night was thin and hallucinatory, like we were at a high distance.
Outside my apartment, Pascal sighed and took me by the waist. He was much taller than I and swung me from side to side. He tipped his lips down as I tipped my lips upwardly. And then, without a care in the world, nosotros kissed.
His lips were surprisingly soft. I had only kissed Elliott for the by four years, and every kiss earlier that had been embarrassingly bad. Pascal'southward lips were and so different, full still muscular. He held me by the dorsum of my head, then slid his hands down to my neck, kneading as he went, so by the time his hands were at the modest of my dorsum, my insides had melted.
Elliott had a shallow mode of kissing, lips that moved like an emmet on a leaf. Pascal was all push and pull, suck and lick. Every bit of pressure corresponded with another withdrawal, leaving me panting and yearning."
― Food Whore: A Novel of Dining and Deceit
Outside my apartment, Pascal sighed and took me by the waist. He was much taller than I and swung me from side to side. He tipped his lips down as I tipped my lips upwardly. And then, without a care in the world, nosotros kissed.
His lips were surprisingly soft. I had only kissed Elliott for the by four years, and every kiss earlier that had been embarrassingly bad. Pascal'southward lips were and so different, full still muscular. He held me by the dorsum of my head, then slid his hands down to my neck, kneading as he went, so by the time his hands were at the modest of my dorsum, my insides had melted.
Elliott had a shallow mode of kissing, lips that moved like an emmet on a leaf. Pascal was all push and pull, suck and lick. Every bit of pressure corresponded with another withdrawal, leaving me panting and yearning."
― Food Whore: A Novel of Dining and Deceit
"Miss Sydney, in that location is just i more thing."
Sophia paused before leaving. "Yes, sir?"
He reached for her, his manus sliding around the dorsum of her neck. Sophia was too startled to move or breathe, her unabridged trunk stiffening as his head lowered to hers. He touched her merely with his lips and with his hand at her nape, merely she was as helpless as if she had been bound to him with atomic number 26 chains.
In that location had been no time to prepare herself... she was defenseless and stunned, unable to withhold her response. At start his lips were gentle, exquisitely careful, equally if he feared bruising her. Then he coaxed her to requite him more, his mouth settling more than firmly on hers. The taste of him, his intimate flavor laced with the hint of coffee, affected her similar a drug. The tip of his natural language slid by her teeth in silken exploration. He tasted the interior of her mouth, stroked the slick insides of her cheeks. Anthony had never kissed her like this, feeding her rising passion as if he were layering kindling on a bonfire. Devastated past his skill, Sophia swayed dizzily and clutched his hard neck.
Oh, if only he would hold her tightly and lock her full length against his... but he nonetheless touched her only with that one mitt, and consumed her mouth with patient hunger. Sensing the force of his passion, held so deeply in check, Sophia instinctively sought a way to release it. Her easily fluttered to the sides of his face up, stroking the bristle of his cheeks and jaw.
Ross made a quiet sound in his throat. All of a sudden he took hold of her shoulders and eased her away from his body, ignoring her whimpering protest. Sophia'southward gaze locked with his in a moment of searing wonder. The stillness was cleaved only past their panting breaths. No man had ever looked at Sophia that way, every bit if he could eat her with his gaze, as if he wanted to possess every inch of her trunk and every flicker of her soul. She was frightened by the power of her response to him, the unmentionable desires that shocked her."
― Lady Sophia'southward Lover
Sophia paused before leaving. "Yes, sir?"
He reached for her, his manus sliding around the dorsum of her neck. Sophia was too startled to move or breathe, her unabridged trunk stiffening as his head lowered to hers. He touched her merely with his lips and with his hand at her nape, merely she was as helpless as if she had been bound to him with atomic number 26 chains.
In that location had been no time to prepare herself... she was defenseless and stunned, unable to withhold her response. At start his lips were gentle, exquisitely careful, equally if he feared bruising her. Then he coaxed her to requite him more, his mouth settling more than firmly on hers. The taste of him, his intimate flavor laced with the hint of coffee, affected her similar a drug. The tip of his natural language slid by her teeth in silken exploration. He tasted the interior of her mouth, stroked the slick insides of her cheeks. Anthony had never kissed her like this, feeding her rising passion as if he were layering kindling on a bonfire. Devastated past his skill, Sophia swayed dizzily and clutched his hard neck.
Oh, if only he would hold her tightly and lock her full length against his... but he nonetheless touched her only with that one mitt, and consumed her mouth with patient hunger. Sensing the force of his passion, held so deeply in check, Sophia instinctively sought a way to release it. Her easily fluttered to the sides of his face up, stroking the bristle of his cheeks and jaw.
Ross made a quiet sound in his throat. All of a sudden he took hold of her shoulders and eased her away from his body, ignoring her whimpering protest. Sophia'southward gaze locked with his in a moment of searing wonder. The stillness was cleaved only past their panting breaths. No man had ever looked at Sophia that way, every bit if he could eat her with his gaze, as if he wanted to possess every inch of her trunk and every flicker of her soul. She was frightened by the power of her response to him, the unmentionable desires that shocked her."
― Lady Sophia'southward Lover
"Did they take all the ingredients for the seed cake, Miss Sophia? The caraway and rye, and the currants for the tiptop?"
"Aye," Sophia replied as the cook-maid disappeared into the larder. "Only we could find no ruby-red currants, and-"
Suddenly her words were smothered into silence equally Sir Ross pulled her into his arms. His lips descended to hers in a osculation and then tender and carnal that she could not help responding. Stunned, she struggled to retain her hatred of him, to call up the wrongs of the past, simply his lips were utterly warm and compelling, and her thoughts scattered crazily. The pinkish rose dropped from her nerveless fingers. Sophia swayed confronting him, groping for his hard shoulders in a futile bid for balance. His tongue searched her mouth... succulent... sweetly intimate. Sophia inhaled sharply and tilted her head dorsum in utter surrender, her entire being distilled to this one called-for moment.
Through the pounding heartbeat in her ears she dimly heard Eliza'south concerned voice echoing from the larder. "No red currants? But what will we top the seed cake with?"
Sir Ross released Sophia's mouth, leaving her lips moist and osculation-softened. His face up remained close to hers, and Sophia felt as if she were drowning in the silver pools of his eyes. His paw came to the side of her face, his fingers curving over her cheek, his pollex brushing the corner of her rima oris. Somehow Sophia managed to respond Eliza. "Nosotros f-found gilt currants instead-"
As shortly equally the words left her mouth, Sir Ross kissed her again, his tongue exploring, teasing. Her groping fingers touched the back of his neck, where the thick black hair curled against his nape. Sensation rustled through her, spurring her pulse to an intemperate pace. Taking advantage of her surrender, he kissed her more aggressively, hunting for the deepest, sweetest taste of her. As her knees weakened, his artillery wrapped deeply effectually her, supporting her body as he continued to ravish her mouth.
"Golden currants?" came Eliza'south dissatisfied vox. "Well, the season won't be quite the same, but they volition exist meliorate than goose egg."
Sir Ross released Sophia and steadied her with his hands at her waist. While she stared at him blankly, he gave her a brief smile and left the kitchen just as Eliza reemerged from the larder."
― Lady Sophia's Lover
"Aye," Sophia replied as the cook-maid disappeared into the larder. "Only we could find no ruby-red currants, and-"
Suddenly her words were smothered into silence equally Sir Ross pulled her into his arms. His lips descended to hers in a osculation and then tender and carnal that she could not help responding. Stunned, she struggled to retain her hatred of him, to call up the wrongs of the past, simply his lips were utterly warm and compelling, and her thoughts scattered crazily. The pinkish rose dropped from her nerveless fingers. Sophia swayed confronting him, groping for his hard shoulders in a futile bid for balance. His tongue searched her mouth... succulent... sweetly intimate. Sophia inhaled sharply and tilted her head dorsum in utter surrender, her entire being distilled to this one called-for moment.
Through the pounding heartbeat in her ears she dimly heard Eliza'south concerned voice echoing from the larder. "No red currants? But what will we top the seed cake with?"
Sir Ross released Sophia's mouth, leaving her lips moist and osculation-softened. His face up remained close to hers, and Sophia felt as if she were drowning in the silver pools of his eyes. His paw came to the side of her face, his fingers curving over her cheek, his pollex brushing the corner of her rima oris. Somehow Sophia managed to respond Eliza. "Nosotros f-found gilt currants instead-"
As shortly equally the words left her mouth, Sir Ross kissed her again, his tongue exploring, teasing. Her groping fingers touched the back of his neck, where the thick black hair curled against his nape. Sensation rustled through her, spurring her pulse to an intemperate pace. Taking advantage of her surrender, he kissed her more aggressively, hunting for the deepest, sweetest taste of her. As her knees weakened, his artillery wrapped deeply effectually her, supporting her body as he continued to ravish her mouth.
"Golden currants?" came Eliza'south dissatisfied vox. "Well, the season won't be quite the same, but they volition exist meliorate than goose egg."
Sir Ross released Sophia and steadied her with his hands at her waist. While she stared at him blankly, he gave her a brief smile and left the kitchen just as Eliza reemerged from the larder."
― Lady Sophia's Lover
"Drowning in guilt and fearfulness and desire, she tried to push his caressing hand away from her throat. His fingers delved into her pilus with a grip only curt of painful. His mouth was close to hers. He was surrounding her, all the strength and force and maleness of him, and she closed her eyes as her senses went quiet and dark in helpless waiting. "I'll make you lot tell me," she heard him mutter.
Then she was kissing her.
Somehow, Beatrix idea hazily, Christopher seemed to exist under the impression she would find his kisses so objectionable that she would confess anything to make him desist. She couldn't remember how he had come up by such a notion. In fact, she couldn't really think at all.
His rima oris moved over hers in supple, intimate angles, until he institute some perfect alignment that made her weak all over. She reached around his cervix to keep from dropping bonelessly to the flooring. Gathering her closer into the hard support of his torso, he explored her slowly, the tip of his tongue stroking, tasting.
Her body listed more heavily against his as her limbs became weighted with pleasure. She sensed the moment when his anger was eclipsed by passion, desire changing to white-hot need. Her fingers sank into his beautiful hair, the shorn locks heavy and vibrant, his scalp hot against her palms. With each inhalation, she drew in more than of his fragrance, the trace of sandalwood on warm male skin.
His oral cavity slid from hers and dragged roughly along her throat, crossing sensitive places that fabricated her writhe. Blindly turning her confront, she rubbed her lips against his ear. He drew in a sharp jiff and jerked his head back. His paw came to her jaw, clamping firmly.
"Tell me what yous know," he said, his breath searing her lips. "Or I'll exercise worse than this. I'll have you lot here and now. Is that what you want?"
As a affair of fact ..."
― Dearest in the Afternoon
Then she was kissing her.
Somehow, Beatrix idea hazily, Christopher seemed to exist under the impression she would find his kisses so objectionable that she would confess anything to make him desist. She couldn't remember how he had come up by such a notion. In fact, she couldn't really think at all.
His rima oris moved over hers in supple, intimate angles, until he institute some perfect alignment that made her weak all over. She reached around his cervix to keep from dropping bonelessly to the flooring. Gathering her closer into the hard support of his torso, he explored her slowly, the tip of his tongue stroking, tasting.
Her body listed more heavily against his as her limbs became weighted with pleasure. She sensed the moment when his anger was eclipsed by passion, desire changing to white-hot need. Her fingers sank into his beautiful hair, the shorn locks heavy and vibrant, his scalp hot against her palms. With each inhalation, she drew in more than of his fragrance, the trace of sandalwood on warm male skin.
His oral cavity slid from hers and dragged roughly along her throat, crossing sensitive places that fabricated her writhe. Blindly turning her confront, she rubbed her lips against his ear. He drew in a sharp jiff and jerked his head back. His paw came to her jaw, clamping firmly.
"Tell me what yous know," he said, his breath searing her lips. "Or I'll exercise worse than this. I'll have you lot here and now. Is that what you want?"
As a affair of fact ..."
― Dearest in the Afternoon
"I wanted to kiss you lot. I can't explain why. I have no excuses. At whatever rate, don't worry. It was clearly a fault, and I promise information technology won't happen agai-"
Once more.
He kissed her again.
Or rather, he kissed her for the first time- and he was so much meliorate at it than she.
This osculation could not exist mistaken for an accidental collision mouths. Oh, no. He kissed with purpose. His lips had ideas. His natural language had plans.
She closed her eyes and melted against him, flattening her hands on his muscled arms. He brushed his lips to hers in a series of chaste, yet masterful kisses. He swept a hand up her spine and into her pilus, where he twisted and gathered the tangled locks in his fist. Then he tugged sharply, tipping her face to his and sending electric sensation over her every nerve.
When her mouth fell open in a gasp, he reclaimed her lips, sweeping his natural language between them. Her first instinct was to shy away, but Penny fought against it. She reached college, lacing her arms virtually his neck and holding tight.
His tongue stroked hers, slow and insistent. He tasted of soot and salt and... and of apples, strangely. Tart, smoky, just a hint of sweet.
A lush, corrupt pleasure unwound within her, snaking through her veins- as though it had lain coiled in anticipation for years. Waiting on this moment.
Waiting on this human being."
― The Wallflower Wager
Once more.
He kissed her again.
Or rather, he kissed her for the first time- and he was so much meliorate at it than she.
This osculation could not exist mistaken for an accidental collision mouths. Oh, no. He kissed with purpose. His lips had ideas. His natural language had plans.
She closed her eyes and melted against him, flattening her hands on his muscled arms. He brushed his lips to hers in a series of chaste, yet masterful kisses. He swept a hand up her spine and into her pilus, where he twisted and gathered the tangled locks in his fist. Then he tugged sharply, tipping her face to his and sending electric sensation over her every nerve.
When her mouth fell open in a gasp, he reclaimed her lips, sweeping his natural language between them. Her first instinct was to shy away, but Penny fought against it. She reached college, lacing her arms virtually his neck and holding tight.
His tongue stroked hers, slow and insistent. He tasted of soot and salt and... and of apples, strangely. Tart, smoky, just a hint of sweet.
A lush, corrupt pleasure unwound within her, snaking through her veins- as though it had lain coiled in anticipation for years. Waiting on this moment.
Waiting on this human being."
― The Wallflower Wager
"Lăsând pradă gurii mele
Ale tale buze dulci."
―
Ale tale buze dulci."
―
"Their mouths crashed together. Tongues tangled. He kissed her as if he wanted to swallow her, devour her alive. Fierce kisses, difficult kisses, desperate, wanting kisses. He tasted like chocolate and smelled like sin.
"Sam..." She pulled away. "I tin't breathe."
"Neither can I." Her wrapped his arms around her and drew her in for another hungry osculation. Hot, hard, and moisture, melting her to the side of the Jeep. His natural language worked by her lips to plunge into her mouth, every stroke tugging at things low and deep in her belly.
Her hands moved to his chest, sliding over his pecs and the ripple of abs beneath his shirt. Harman was perfect but Sam was real, his body hard from his fight grooming, muscles thick from use. He hissed out a breath when her fingers grazed the superlative of his chugalug, his infamous self-control giving way to her curious easily.
"What are we doing?" he murmured as he drew her earlobe into his rima oris, his v-o'clock shadow crude confronting her sensitive skin.
"I don't know, but don't stop."
"No chance of that." He shifted against her, his arousal as evident from his ragged breaths as the growing hardness pressed against her hips.
When he thrust a thick thigh betwixt her legs, she rocked confronting him, reckless and wanton in her need for release. She was dying, burning, her body on burn down. She'd never felt anything like the toxic combination of anger and animalism that pounded through her veins. It fabricated her head spin, collection logic abroad."
― The Union Game
"Sam..." She pulled away. "I tin't breathe."
"Neither can I." Her wrapped his arms around her and drew her in for another hungry osculation. Hot, hard, and moisture, melting her to the side of the Jeep. His natural language worked by her lips to plunge into her mouth, every stroke tugging at things low and deep in her belly.
Her hands moved to his chest, sliding over his pecs and the ripple of abs beneath his shirt. Harman was perfect but Sam was real, his body hard from his fight grooming, muscles thick from use. He hissed out a breath when her fingers grazed the superlative of his chugalug, his infamous self-control giving way to her curious easily.
"What are we doing?" he murmured as he drew her earlobe into his rima oris, his v-o'clock shadow crude confronting her sensitive skin.
"I don't know, but don't stop."
"No chance of that." He shifted against her, his arousal as evident from his ragged breaths as the growing hardness pressed against her hips.
When he thrust a thick thigh betwixt her legs, she rocked confronting him, reckless and wanton in her need for release. She was dying, burning, her body on burn down. She'd never felt anything like the toxic combination of anger and animalism that pounded through her veins. It fabricated her head spin, collection logic abroad."
― The Union Game
"Livia didn't reappear. She must have gone out past the back alley. Yaqub came into the house solitary, his neck scratched and full of love bites, his face still burning with passion. That's how he left: his clothes rumpled, his confront wet, and his hair full of twigs, leaves, and strands of blondish hair. He went quietly, leaving the business firm where he had lived with frugality and discretion. He had barely occupied the place, hardly more than than a shadow."
― Two Brothers
― Two Brothers
"The Maronite Christian women in Manaus could not tolerate the notion of Zana marrying a Muslim. A mere tinker, a peddler, a roughneck, a Muslim from the mountains of Southern Lebanon, they'd say. Ah, these passions in the provinces. It'south like being onstage, listening to the audience booing two actors playing two lovers. The more they booed, the more than perfume I put on the wedlock sheets. Information technology was a greedy and vengeful kiss, I silenced those rattling tongues…and all of Abbas'due south ghazals were in that kiss."
― Two Brothers
― Two Brothers
"I know we need to talk about things, lots of things," he chokes, "but I just-"
Susan grabs his face, pulls his head down, and devours him.
And that kiss is everything. It'southward love and regret and apology. Passion and sex, friendship and hope. Information technology's want and need and yearning and heat and shivers that they both feel shuddering through their bodies. Information technology's 10 years' worth of kisses, all crowding into one embrace as the pair of them rediscover each other: the curves of their mouths and bodies pressed close, the insistence of hands and tongues, the hearts hammering in concert, and the silent, common promise that in that location is more than- then much more! and better!- to come.
When they finally part, Susan looks up at him with a teasing smile and says, "Yous're not but doing this for the brownie recipe, are you?"
"Ah, yous caught me!" He laughs, and so kisses her again and again and once again, and when they pause once more, she notices the flush creeping upward his neck, the mixture of frustration and want in his eyes.
Clinging to him, she says, in a throaty voice: "Your place or mine?"
"Well," he answers, with a devilish smile, "yours is closer, but mine doesn't take your begetter or Julia in information technology."
"Right," Susan laughs. "Yours, and so."
Together, they hurtle through the oversupply, through the gates of Charlotte Square, bellowing in unison, "Taxi!"
― All Stirred Up
Susan grabs his face, pulls his head down, and devours him.
And that kiss is everything. It'southward love and regret and apology. Passion and sex, friendship and hope. Information technology's want and need and yearning and heat and shivers that they both feel shuddering through their bodies. Information technology's 10 years' worth of kisses, all crowding into one embrace as the pair of them rediscover each other: the curves of their mouths and bodies pressed close, the insistence of hands and tongues, the hearts hammering in concert, and the silent, common promise that in that location is more than- then much more! and better!- to come.
When they finally part, Susan looks up at him with a teasing smile and says, "Yous're not but doing this for the brownie recipe, are you?"
"Ah, yous caught me!" He laughs, and so kisses her again and again and once again, and when they pause once more, she notices the flush creeping upward his neck, the mixture of frustration and want in his eyes.
Clinging to him, she says, in a throaty voice: "Your place or mine?"
"Well," he answers, with a devilish smile, "yours is closer, but mine doesn't take your begetter or Julia in information technology."
"Right," Susan laughs. "Yours, and so."
Together, they hurtle through the oversupply, through the gates of Charlotte Square, bellowing in unison, "Taxi!"
― All Stirred Up
"MacRae drew closer and took her caput in his hands. His thumbs caressed the edge of her jaw, the low-cal rasp of calluses causing gooseflesh to ascent everywhere. Holy Moses, he was really going to exercise it. She was most to be kissed by a stranger.
Too late to make light of annihilation now. What have I washed? She stared up at him with broad eyes, the dissonant notes of nerves and tension joining in a long, sugariness chord of desire.
The crescents of his lashes, dark with gold tips, lowered slightly every bit he looked down at her. There was no place to hide from that piercing gaze. She felt and then terribly exposed, every bit equally naked as he'd been a few minutes agone.
His head bent, and his rima oris found hers with a pressure as soft as snowfall.
She'd thought he might exist crude or impatient, maybe a bit clumsy... she'd expected anything just the gently teasing caress that coaxed her lips apart before she was even aware of information technology. He tasted her with the tip of his tongue, a sensation that went down to her knees and weakened them. She felt herself list like a ship unable to correct itself, but he gathered her firmly confronting him, his supportive arms closing around her. The tender focus on her mouth deepened until it had gone on longer than any kiss in her life, and withal she wanted more.
He kissed her as if it were non the first time but the final, as if the world were almost to terminate, and every second was worth a lifetime. He feasted on her with the craving of years. Blindly she caught at his mouth with hers, while her fingers tangled in his hair. The textures of him- plush velvet, rough bristle, wet silk- stimulated her across bearing. She'd never known desire similar this, a swoon that kept deepening into more and more exquisite feeling."
― Devil in Disguise
Too late to make light of annihilation now. What have I washed? She stared up at him with broad eyes, the dissonant notes of nerves and tension joining in a long, sugariness chord of desire.
The crescents of his lashes, dark with gold tips, lowered slightly every bit he looked down at her. There was no place to hide from that piercing gaze. She felt and then terribly exposed, every bit equally naked as he'd been a few minutes agone.
His head bent, and his rima oris found hers with a pressure as soft as snowfall.
She'd thought he might exist crude or impatient, maybe a bit clumsy... she'd expected anything just the gently teasing caress that coaxed her lips apart before she was even aware of information technology. He tasted her with the tip of his tongue, a sensation that went down to her knees and weakened them. She felt herself list like a ship unable to correct itself, but he gathered her firmly confronting him, his supportive arms closing around her. The tender focus on her mouth deepened until it had gone on longer than any kiss in her life, and withal she wanted more.
He kissed her as if it were non the first time but the final, as if the world were almost to terminate, and every second was worth a lifetime. He feasted on her with the craving of years. Blindly she caught at his mouth with hers, while her fingers tangled in his hair. The textures of him- plush velvet, rough bristle, wet silk- stimulated her across bearing. She'd never known desire similar this, a swoon that kept deepening into more and more exquisite feeling."
― Devil in Disguise
"Her hands groped effectually his cervix, her fingers lacing through the thick shorn locks at the back of his head. The hard, clean contours of Keir's confront rubbed against hers, a different feeling than the coarse tickle of his beard. But the oral cavity was the same, full and erotic, searingly hot. He consumed her slowly, searching with his tongue, licking deep into each osculation. Wild quivers of pleasure went through her, weakening her knees until she had to lean against him to stay upright. As her head tilted back, a forgotten tear slid from the outer corner of her eye to the border of her hairline. His lips followed the salty rail, arresting the taste.
Keir cradled her cheek in his hand, his shaken whisper falling hotly confronting her mouth. "Merry, dear... my heart's gleam, drop of my beloved blood... you should have told me."
Merritt heard her own weak reply every bit if from a distance. "I thought... in some part of your mind... you might have wanted to forget."
"No." Keir crushed her close, nuzzling her hard confronting her hair and disheveling the pinned-up coils. "Never, honey. The memory slipped out of reach for a moment, is all." His paw coasted slowly upwards and downwardly her spine. "I'thousand so damned sad for the way I've been trying to go on you at a altitude. I dinna know you were already within my heart." He paused before adding wryly, "Mind, I did accept to jump from a iii-story window, with petty to break the fall just my ain difficult head." Taking i of her easily, he pressed her palm over his pounding heartbeat. "Merely you were still in here. Your name is carved so deep, a million years could no' erase it."
― Devil in Disguise
Keir cradled her cheek in his hand, his shaken whisper falling hotly confronting her mouth. "Merry, dear... my heart's gleam, drop of my beloved blood... you should have told me."
Merritt heard her own weak reply every bit if from a distance. "I thought... in some part of your mind... you might have wanted to forget."
"No." Keir crushed her close, nuzzling her hard confronting her hair and disheveling the pinned-up coils. "Never, honey. The memory slipped out of reach for a moment, is all." His paw coasted slowly upwards and downwardly her spine. "I'thousand so damned sad for the way I've been trying to go on you at a altitude. I dinna know you were already within my heart." He paused before adding wryly, "Mind, I did accept to jump from a iii-story window, with petty to break the fall just my ain difficult head." Taking i of her easily, he pressed her palm over his pounding heartbeat. "Merely you were still in here. Your name is carved so deep, a million years could no' erase it."
― Devil in Disguise
"And and so she was hugging him, and his arms were around her, and she smelled of wildflowers and sunshine, and she was soft against his chest, simply he hoped she would stop jumping because "highly aroused" wasn't a skillful look for him in a public place.
His lips found hers and he kissed her softly and thoroughly. When she trembled in his artillery, returning his kiss with passion and carelessness, a blitz of something sugariness and innocent flooded his senses. He'd kissed dozens of women and none had always affected him this mode. None had never tasted of sunshine. None had made him question what was existent."
― The Dating Program
His lips found hers and he kissed her softly and thoroughly. When she trembled in his artillery, returning his kiss with passion and carelessness, a blitz of something sugariness and innocent flooded his senses. He'd kissed dozens of women and none had always affected him this mode. None had never tasted of sunshine. None had made him question what was existent."
― The Dating Program
"He took her softly at first, affectionate the subtle beauty and joy in that offset osculation, a moment that could never be repeated with her once again. Want stirred inside him, and Ramón took no prisoners. He kissed her hungrily, and she responded with a fiery passion. She tasted like tequila and lime and lust. He wanted to become drunk on her lips. This kiss in the graveyard was hauntingly beautiful, but similar her."
― Ramón and Julieta
― Ramón and Julieta
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Source: https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/passionate-kiss
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