Quotes About Intimacy

Love is self-serving - we do all sorts of things for our own comfort and call it love. But revenge is an intimate thing, don't you think? Would you be willing to enact another persons vengeance?

Love is self-serving – we do all sorts of things for our own comfort and call it love. But revenge is an intimate thing, don't you think? Would you be willing to enact another person's vengeance?' It was a disturbing manifestation of devotion; one that seeded itself uncomfortably in Grace's imagination.

It was cool, his finger, being made of titanium, and he used it to stroke her, first on the outside, running it over her pubic hair until she began to moan, and then sliding it inside her.

She tried to hear his heartbeat through the fabric of his tuxedo jacket, and the fact that she wasn't sure whether she could hear it made her think about how hard it was for any girl to ever know whether her love was being returned.

Were we sexually intimate? What difference could it possibly make to you?

And now you'll never be able to have anyone else, because you won't be able to keep our secret. You'll tell whoever it is, and once he knows, he'll leave you.

and he kneaded her.

Seems to me the basic conflict between men and women, sexually, is that men are like firemen. To men, sex is an emergency, and no matter what we're doing we can be ready in two minutes. Women, on the other hand, are like fire. They're very exciting, but the conditions have to be exactly right for it to occur. ~Jerry Seinfeld

I hate when I take a woman to my bed who has already been in yours. I feel like they're comparing us." Grey grinned. "And find you lacking?" As much as he regretted some of his past, he was still a man, with a man's sexual pride. If looks could kill, he'd be on the grass gasping his last. "I doubt it.

That was delightful." Grey chuckled, flashing a lopsided grin that made his eyes sparkle like aquamarines. "You make me feel…" "Yes?" He shook his head, surprising her with the degree of awe and self-consciousness in his expression as he drew back, and helped her down from the table. "That's it. You make me feel." Rose smiled and kissed him. It wasn't exactly a declaration of love, but he was getting closer. It would do for now.

I want to take you until you are boneless. I want to drain you of strength. I want to fill you and take my fill of you. My dear, Ivy, I want to devour you. I want your juices on my toung, flooding my mouth. I want your wetness on my face, your scent covering me. I want your blood in my veins.

a man cannot embrace a woman's faults until he loves her. A woman embraces the faults and then falls in love.

In fact, the only people he let anywhere near him were his family and her. She wasn't quite certain she wanted to dissect the implications of that honor.

She decided she could keep her face as stoic as her husband usually kept his. And then Lady Agnes wrapped her hands in Dominic's hair. Cass narrowed her eyes, tightened her grip on the edges of the saddle. She loved the feel of his hair, those satiny strands beneath her palms, the silvery mass of it twined about her fingers. Damn the woman, that was her territory, her favorite way of touching him. The

That thick silvery hair of his—which had felt like spun silk in her hands—parted slightly over the tips of his ears and spread out around him like a sparkling halo. He lay on his back, one arm thrown above his head, his face softer in sleep, the angles less harsh. His pale skin appeared to glow in the darkness, highlighting the muscles of his chest, the ridges in his abdomen.

For the poet, the world is word. Words. Not that precisely. Precisely: the world and words fuck each other.

I'm looking for what might be called a body language. One thing I do is stick a vibrator up my cunt and start writing -- writing from the point of orgasm and losing control of the language and seeing what that's like.

It's too much trouble to get laid. Because you have to go out with a guy, and go to dinner with him, and listen to him talk about his opinions, and I don't have that kind of time.

When you've been around as long as me, Lucy, you'll know that there are three types of sex... One - brand-new, kitchen-table sex. Two - bedroom sex. Then number three - hallway sex, when you pass each other in the hallway and say 'Fuck you.'" - Lockie

I hated myself for needing him at such times, for craving his strength whenever I felt upset.

Jason's my friend," I said quietly, "but he's not a Viral. He's not part of my pack. He'll never mean as much to me as you do." Ben's eyes snapped to meet mine. He started intently. I felt my cheeks burn.

I needed him here like I needed a yeast infection.

Having been lovers, we could never be friends. Tonight we'd almost been thrown into each other's arms.

We've all heard of personal space, that blanket of nothing we need between ourselves and others. For me, the zone is eighteen inches. Break in, I get edgy.