Quotes About Sensuality

I want to make you weep. I want all your pleasure, Iris, all your pain, everything you are. Come for me. And she felt herself bow with the stark white bliss of her epiphany, the shattering realization of his words and his hands and his mouth. She was gasping for breath, shaking, lost, unseeing. The center of her being pulsing with pleasure.

He paid scant attention to the conversation. He could smell his own sent on Anna's body, and it satisfied him in a primal way ... She gasped as he buried his nose in her maiden hair and inhaled. His scent was strongest here, in her gilded curls so soft and pretty in the morning light.

winter?" She traced a circle on his breastbone, her touch

She nudged his arm to wash under it, where his dark hair grew in a swirl. Where the scent of his masculinity was the strongest. She shouldn't find this erotic. A lady shouldn't find this erotic. And yet she did. His lifted arms made the muscles move over his ribs stand out in intriguing ridges, and she wanted- rather badly, in fact- to lean down and inhale his scent.

She wanted to ride him, wanted to hide him away in her bedroom, to use only for herself. She was jealous of every woman who had come before her. Had used this wonderful penis. Had heard his groan. She opened her eyes. But it was the women who would come after that she truly wanted to kill. He was hers. He should never share this part of himself with anyone else.

Come with me, sweet girl. She blinked up at him, wide blue-gray eyes a little dazed. He covered her mouth again before she could speak- either to consent or decline- and drew her slowly backward, step by step, toward the bed, until he hit it with the backs of his legs. He broke the kiss, looking down at her, her wet ruby lips parted, her cheeks flushed pink. She looked edible. Raphael, she whispered, his name on her lips like a plea, and something within him broke.

She shifted until his cock was under her. She rubbed herself against him, using his hard flesh to pleasure herself. He arched under her, this big strong man. The tendons of his neck stood out; he flung wide his arms and clutched at the bedclothes. Eve, what you do to me. She watched him and slowly reached down to pull her sodden chemise up, up over her belly, over her breasts, over her head, undulating on him all the while.

He rose up suddenly and turned her, so that she lay on the bed. He pushed up her skirts, found the ties to her panniers, and yanked them off and threw them to the floor. Then he was on her again, trailing his mouth down her neck, biting at her collarbone. She ran her fingers into the hair at the back of his head, grasping, trying to hold on as he moved on her so intently. He'd always been in control when he'd made love to her. Now he seemed moved by a sort of compulsion. An animal need.

And his simple bravery, his quiet pride, finally broke her. She let the cloth slip from her fingers and bent down to kiss him. His reaction was immediate and decided. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap, forcing her to straddle his legs. He cradled the back of her head in the spread of his fingers, angled his head for a better fit, and opened his mouth over hers. And, oh, the man knew how to kiss.

You tend a wound nearly as well as you dance. Her blue-gray gaze flicked up to his, wide with surprise. I wasn't sure if you recognized me from the ball. This was intimate, her face so close to his. He naked and she with the upper slopes of her breasts uncovered. He felt hazy with desperate temptation. He could smell her, above the scent of his own blood- a faint flower scent. Not cedarwood, thank God. You're hard to forget, he murmured.

His eyes narrowed to slits.Make love. Make love to me. Now

Fuck, you mean? His eyes narrowed to slits.Make love. Make love to me. Now

Fuck, you mean? His eyes narrowed to slits.Make love. Make love to me. Now

Elizabeth Hoyt

He opened his eyes to see her licking her lips nervously. I... er... We should remove your banyan. At least the upper portion. If he were a man given to mirth he might've grinned then. She was playing in the flames of his control. Did she not understand her own peril? But her blush had deepened and she was deliciously out of sorts. He simply could not resist- either his own urges or her innocent befuddlement. He spread his arms and said gravely, Be my guest.

She swallowed. He was covered, of course, but she knew what lay beneath the sheets- she'd seen him entirely nude at the Lords' revels. She had the image burned into her memory: a proud, thick penis, heavy sac, and curling midnight hair. If the coverlet slipped just a little bit downward, she would see the upper edge of that nest of black hair. The thought made her press her thighs together under her dress. Did he know how his body affected her?

Now, had he the dressing of her- and why should he not?- he would put her in reds- rose and scarlet and deep, sensual crimson. Those dark inquisitor's eyes would burn from a foil of crimson cloth, mysterious, feminine. Beautiful. He was startled at the thought. Plain Mrs. Crumb beautiful? Well, most might not think her so, but oh, if she burned-

Oh, he was glorious! He was everything she'd suspected- and feared- that first morning. His shoulders so wide, his chest swirled with wet, dark hair his hips slim, and his sex framed by the V of muscle that ran from the sides of his belly to his groin. His cock bobbed wetly, the foreskin already pulled taut under the head. His thighs were long and bulged with muscle, and even his feet were large and hairy.

He remembered Mrs. Dews' light brown eyes last night. The way they'd closed in bliss when he'd fed her the plum tart… Her emotion was foreign, wild and exciting, and entirely fascinating--and she tried so very hard to hide it. Why? He wanted to spend time with the source of such powerful emotion. Wanted to experiment, poke and prod, see what else made her cheeks flush her breath come fast.

Fuck, you mean?His eyes narrowed to slits. Make love. Make love to me. Now

His knee pressed between her thighs, bunching the linen against her woman's place, spreading her and rubbing into her folds. She found herself undulating against that knee, pleasuring herself with his hard, hot, wet body.

Would you prefer it if I'd continued to wear your shirt and banyan? Actually he'd quite liked her wearing his clothes, both because her breasts had been unbuttoned it made something in him very, very content. The yellow dress, however, quite suited her. She seemed to glow in the candlelight, like a beacon of purity.

first hot touch of his tongue, she trembled

When I make a picture, I make love.