Quotes About Intensity

I glanced back at the two darknesses. They were moving toward us. Quickly. I looked up at Barrons. He was motionless, staring down at me. He turned and looked over his shoulder where I had been staring, then back at me. Then he pushed open the door, shoved me inside, shut the door, and slid three dead bolts behind us.

He turned his face to mine, looked down. Handsome, chilling man. His eyes were the clearest I'd ever seen. This was a man that suffered no conflicts with himself. He had no problems being what he was. We stared at each other. "Black looks good on you," he murmured. "Has Barrons seen you like this?

Powerful, often brilliant beyond comprehension, most of the time he was a wildly emotional hot mess.

he fucks with the single-minded devotion of a dying man hunting God.

The kiss he gave her was not meant to seduce, it was meant to mark a woman's soul, and it was working. Dominant like the man, hungry, demanding. Beckoning forth the secret Chloe that harbored hunger every bit as deep as his. He was a dark, seductive shadow, all around her, and she was drowning in him.

You know I'm no' a good man," he said, his voice deceptively gentle, belying the steel beneath it. "I've made no excuses. I've given you no pretty lies. You came with me anyway. Doona pretend you doona know what I want and doona think to deny me. Twice now you've tried to go back. There is no going back with me, Chloe-lass.

I burn everywhere and I'm hot, and I'm hot, and I'm so fecking unbelievably hot that I start tearing off my clothes and I can't do it fast enough because I feel thick and slow and stupid

Don't confuse intensity of emotion with quality of emotion, baby, when I'd gotten tangled up with class heartbreaker Tommy Ralston. The more he'd hit on my girlfriends, the harder I'd worked to keep him. It was like I was addicted to whatever made me feel most intensely, even though it was hurting me. Pain is not love, Mac. Love makes you feel good.

Get a little practice. See what it feels like to drive a knife through my heart. Relish it. Watch the light fade from my eyes, stare into my dying, taste it, see how you like it. There's a moment in death that is unlike anything else in all existence.

dark, tattooed muscle, midnight eyes glittering bloodred

Sex. Hunger. Rage. Hunger. Sex. Hunger. Rage. Hunger.

He stared at her a long moment, his eyes narrowed. "Lass," he said softly, "if you tried to leave me, I fear I wouldn't let you. I fear I would do whatever I had to do, no matter how ruthless, to keep you." "I consider myself warned," she said pertly. "Trust me, I'm not going anywhere. Now tell me.

It's too quiet, Barrons growls.

But I'd cut the fucking moon out of the sky for her.

Slick with sweat, I defile her with reverence. Or revere her with defilement. Every. Inch. Of. Her. Motherfuckingfinebody. She likes it. No holds barred with this woman. I wouldn't have believed it of her. And she does scream Ã¢â'¬Â¦

Rage bubbles up inside me, cold, clear, and as psychotic as the carnage unfolding before my eyes.

Stupendous sex is a drug, addictive, consuming. I know from personal experience.

Fuego para su frío, hielo para su fuego

wanted to force you to face it, to want it, to want me, to be willing to fight for what was possible between us with the same single-minded devotion as you fucked. Well, Ms. Lane, you've got your precious memory back. Will you throw me away now?

Don't hurt yourself, honey. It's just a wish," I teased. But she wished like she did everything else: one hundred fifty percent. She stood there so long I was beginning to suspect she had a little bit of an attorney in her and was adding codicils and caveats. Then her eyes popped open and she flashed me that cocky grin. She nearly blew the icing off the cake.

Aye, lass, now you're truly mine," he said fiercely. "Forever.

This man would not kiss me as I like to be kissed but as he does. His way is too hard, demanding, dangerous. His way is not love. It is passion and it burns. Incinerates.

For something so soft, she takes her fucking hard, with a twist. I taste her. I could eat her alive. She closes her mouth on my dick. I close my hands on her head. I might not let her go. Slick with sweat, I defile her with reverence. Or revere her with defilement. Every. Inch. Of. Her. Motherfuckingfinebody.

Some people bring out the worst in you, others bring out the best, and then there are those remarkably rare, addictive ones who just bring out the most. Of everything. They make you feel so alive that you'd follow them straight into hell, just to keep getting your fix.