Quotes About Sensuality

Releasing an explosive breath, Ross went to the chair where Sophia had sat, his fingers coasting over its back and arms. Driven by primal urges, he hunted for any trace of warmth her hands might have left on the wood. He breathed deeply, seeking to absorb a lingering hint of her fragrance. Yes, he thought with purely masculine agitation, he had been celibate for too long.

She huddled against his bare chest, greedily absorbing the heat and scent of him. "Oh, this is dreadful." "Why dreadful?" he asked, smoothing and playing with her curls, his thumb venturing to her temple and grazing the fragile spot. "Because sometimes it's better not to know what one is missing." "Sweet," he whispered, and stole a kiss from her lips. "Sweet... let me stay with you a little longer.

Devon kept his mouth on her, easing the pleasure into relaxation. She summoned just enough strength to reach out and caress his hair. That might have been worth going to hell for, she thought, and didn't realize she had mumbled it aloud until she felt him smile. A

Devlin's disarming blue eyes were set in a face of such perfect masculine beauty that it should have come from a painting or a sculpture. Yet there was nothing aristocratic about his looks. He possessed an earthiness, a sensuality, that was impossible to ignore. If he resembled an angel, it was a fallen one.

Simon had never forgotten the first moment that he had seen her standing outside the panorama, digging through her purse with a little pucker on her forehead. The sun had picked out streaks of gold and champagne in her light brown hair and made her skin glow. There had been something so delicious... so touchable... about her, the velvety skin and shining blue eyes, and the slight frown that he had longed to soothe away.

I want to see your face." "I'll tell you about my face instead. Two eyes, a nose, a mouth..." "A beautiful mouth." His fingertip drifted over her lower lip with a light touch that she could have mistaken for a kiss, had her eyes been closed.

She heard him murmur her name, and then, to her utter astonishment, she saw him sink to his knees and felt his huge hands clutching the folds of silk at her hips. He buried his face against her midriff like an exhausted child. Shocked, Holly reached down to his dark hair. The thick, slightly curling strands were damp against her fingertips, and she stroked them lovingly. "Darling," she whispered over and over, touching the hot nape of his neck.

Daca-mi dau voie sa te sarut o data, ar urma inca o data, apoi inca una, si curand n-am mai putea sa ne oprim.

He kissed her as if he could breathe her in. Fierce kisses, hard ones, teasingly articulate ones, soft enticing ones, kisses to light bonfires and fill the sky and hold the stars aloft.

The feel of her, soft and small and alive, caused him to groan with tortured relief. His hands raked over her, his mouth dragging hungrily over her hair, skin, clothes, as if he would devour her whole. "Grant," she gasped, flinching from the force of his kisses. He gave an animal growl of pleasure and need, crushing his lips hard over hers.

It was more than a kiss...it was a sentence of unbroken kisses, the hot sweet syllables of lips and tongue making her drunk on sensation.

Oh, dear," she said, staring into her nearly empty cup. "Did I drink all of that?" Nick took the cup from her and set it on the table. "I'm afraid so." "Only you could undo my years of training at Maidstone's in one evening," she said, making him grin. His gaze lowered to her mouth, and he traced the edge of her jaw with his fingertip. "Are you completely corrupted now? No? Then let's go home, and I'll finish the job.

Amanda wrestled with him briefly, enjoying the sensation of rubbing along his brawny naked body until his erection rose hot and hard between them. "Very primitive," she said throatily, continuing to squirm until he gave a groaning laugh.

I'd like to do more than sketch you naked. I want to draw directly on you with feather and ink … flowers around your breasts, trails of stars down your thighs." He let his warm lips brush the edge of her ear. "I want to map your body, chart the north, south, east, and west of you. I would—

In no time at all, Beatrix appeared. She was wearing a white dress made of thin, flowing layers, the bodice wrapped intricately over the curves of her breasts. The translucence of her chest and upper arms gave her the look of emerging from the white silk.

Obeying her silent demand, he fused their hips together in a tight, deeply satisfying grinding motion that shot through her like a bolt of lightning. She folded herself around him and purred as sweet release streaked and spread through her, until every inch of her glowed with delight.

I respect you," he murmured. "and your views. I think of you as an equal. I respect your brains, and all those big words you like to use. But I also want to rip your clothes off and have sex with you until you scream and cry and see God." -Jack Travis (Smooth Talking Stranger)

into his shoulder, "maybe you better put some clothes on.

In that case, Cooper," she said faintly into his shoulder, "maybe you better put some clothes on.

The feelings he aroused in her were like a complete realignment of her being, right down to the molecular level.

Okay. I don't know how we're going to do this. If I'm not in you inside of five minutes, I'm going to die. My heart will simply explode, and it won't be pretty. But the thing is this - I haven't had sex in a couple years, which creates two problems. One, I don't have any condoms. If I had any condoms in some drawer somewhere, they'd be powder by now. And two, I can't promise to pull out because I'm going to come the second I'm in you.

He couldn't wait—not one second more—and entered her with one long hard thrust. He was so careful with her, always, but this time he couldn't be careful, couldn't be gentle; he needed to possess her the way he needed to breathe.

The rest of what she wanted to say was lost in his mouth. A red mist rose in his head. Fast as lightning, he picked her up, stripped her, pulled off his sweatshirt, pushed his sweat pants down—he deliberately hadn't put on underwear, either—and embedded his c#ck in her. Just shoved it in because he'd die if he didn't have his c#ck in her now.

Her hand lifted without any volition on her part, as if it were the hand itself that wanted to be held by his. He gently grasped it in both hands, instead of the impersonal handshake she'd been expecting. His hands were as hot as a furnace. Slowly, watching her every second, he brought her hand to his mouth and—oh my God—kissed it. Something inside her, something she'd never even suspected existed, pinged to life. Heat, excitement . . . desire.