Quotes About Sensuality

Last night I spent in her arms - and tonight I hate her - which being interpreted, means that I adore her; that I cannot lie in my bed and not feel the magic of her body. I feel more powerfully all those so-termed sexual impulses with her than I have with any man. She enthrals, enslaves me - and her personal self - her body absolute - is my worship.

Aaron looked hastily away. One innocent smile, and in his mind, he'd kissed her, stripped her and had her whispering his name between frenzied moans.

We had one of those Friday dates that turned into an entire weekend, and by the end of it, I loved him so much my larynx ached. Vulnerable love, incorrigible love. Love in which he was both the nausea and the sodium bicarbonate.

This, Mrs Munroe, is the scent of intoxication and desire. The perfume of seduction.

Something of Eva's disturbing beauty, slow-burning sensuality and razor-sharp mind was reflected in it.

She had gleaming mahogany hair, cut into a sharp, sleek bob and eyes that were the colour of dark chocolate – huge doe eyes framed by black lashes. Her skin was ivory and her proportions amazing; a thin tapered waist, high full breasts, shapely legs. She walked with such casual sensuality that it was impossible not to stare at her. And she was a woman who was used to being stared at.

Her honey-coloured hair fell in heavy wavesbelow her shoulders and as she stared up at him her eyes, clear, speckled amber, seemed to tilt at the corners; her brows were black and swept up in arcs, and she had thick black lashesh. There was about her a kind of warm luxuriance, something immediately suggestive to the men of pleasurable fulfillment- something for which she was not responsible but of which she was acutely conscious.

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.

Apes or human – we all made the same mistake, tempted by shifting leaves or the smell of sex, by music or a ripe banana.

and he kneaded her.

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.

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.

You taste of the cool water that hides deep in a stream. You taste of the night air, soft and scented and mysterious. The taste of you drives me wild. I want to be with you, be inside you, shout to the world that you are mine at the same time I want to keep you hidden where you will exist only for me. You make me feel invincible, little bird.

Too much talking and not enough writhing in ecstasy. You will commence writhing now.

I don't know whether to be pleased that our lovemaking was of such a high quality that you immediately want more, or if it's an indication you are one of those sex-addicted people who are never satisfied.

Are you one of those fifty-shades-of-bondage people? I haven't been into that in the past, but I might be willing to try with you. Although I would want to be the one to do the bondaging, while you would have to be the bondagee.

He gave us music that reached into the ear like a lover's tongue and changed the color of our feelings. He presented movement so exquisite and fluid it coaxed our souls out of our bodies to dance with him, weightless in the perfume of divinity.

Liam tossed the top half of the sleeping bag aside and snagged the end of her shirt and jacket. Her jeans were next, the moonlight bright enough he could see the masses of freckles on her pale skin and the starkness of Carly's matching black lace underwear. "Do you always wear things like that?" "They make me feel sexy." She didn't need anything to be sexy. "Any sexier and I'd keel over now.

Groaning softly, he kissed her, his tongue on hers as he matched his movements. His strokes quickened, harder, deeper, until pleasure suffused every nerve in her body and sent her zinging into the heavens above like the lights they'd come there to watch.

She turned her head and rubbed her cheek against the surprisingly velvety feel of his inner arm, the muscle tensing even more against her face when she pressed a kiss to his skin. In response, she felt him flex inside her. "Caroline." She'd always hated her name. It was too old-fashioned, too hokey and very grandma-ish. But when Liam said it like that, she actually liked it. He made her name, he made her, feel like the sexiest, most beautiful woman on earth.

He sucked in a harsh breath when she pressed her mouth to his, and she was fascinated by the way his eyes darkened and glittered with sexual hunger when their tongues melded together. It was cold, the temperature dropping little by little. It didn't matter. Not when she could press her bare breasts against his chest to warm them, when his hands slid up her back and his arms were so engulfing and so hot she was encased in perfect heat.

Before you tell me how we shouldn't be doing this—" did she dare say what she was thinking? "—I want you to remember how it felt when we were together, because I know you'd like to feel that way again." His hands tightened at her waist and his entire body hardened against hers. She drew back enough to see his face and caught her breath at his expression. Desire and want, need. Not sexual but…the need for closeness, for a connection. For her.

Dear God, Lisa, what are your gingerbread men doing to each other? It's like a gingerbread orgy down there! You made porn cookies!

Jax Cassidy serves up great sex with emotional intensity--what more can a reader want?