Quotes About Yearning

I believe I have a certain darkness within me, that nobody can see. It's always in there, far out of reach. And being with all those different men - it satisfies that darkness.

THe church is full of flowers-yellow roses, lilies, blue hydrangeas spilling forth-and it is on these that Charlie trains his gaze and looks for his mother, who is nowhere to be found. Not even her ashes are in the church, and no coffin, but this is less hard to comprehend than the fact that she is not herself there, a thin old bird, an egret maybe, standing on one leg, head bobbing, long neck swiveling. Contradicting, adding and subtracting. poking fun. Peering out.

But you must be awash in a sea of compliments, my lady. Every gentleman you meet must voice his admiration, his wish to make love to you. And those are only the ones who may voice such thoughts. All about you are men who cannot speak their admiration, who must remain mute from lack of social standing or fear of offending you. Only their thoughts light the air about you, following you like a trail of perfume, heady but invisible. (Winter Makepeace)

I'm not letting you go after this. He raised his head. Marry me, Phoebe, please. Damn the courtship. Damn your brother. Damn the waiting . I can't...I can't breathe when you're not with me. I love you with all my cynical heart. Be my wife and teach me to laugh and let me buy you beer and ride with me on the beaches of Cornwall. Be my love and my wife forevermore. (Captain James Trevellion)

She swallowed and licked her lips. "It's rather good." He laughed breathlessly. Have care, part of his brain whispered. This way only leads to pain. But his c*ck was pressing hard against the placket of his breeches and he wanted to take her hand and draw her away to his rooms and keep her there until she learned to scream in pleasure. Until she screamed his name and no other.

Dear God. She ached, wanting something that she knew was a sin. Wanting a man who was sin itself.

But like the legless man, I'm unaccountably fascinated by those who can dance.

I would do violence for one glimpse of your naked breasts. Bleed for one taste of your nipple on my tongue. (Winter Makepeace)

I watched you for years," she whispered. The tears were drying on her cheeks, and heat was building within her. If he would just touch her. Touch her there. "I watched you and you never saw me.

Will ye be wantin' this now, madam?" "Yes, please," she whispered. She wanted to engrave the sight of him thus, about to make love to her, in her mind.

At her gesture Michael cursed and caught her hand, falling suddenly atop her. She stared up at him wondering what bedchamber faux pas she'd committed. He groaned at her look. "I'll let ye pet and play all ye want—after. Now I need"—he pushed her chemise to her waist, parted her thighs, and settled between them—"to be inside ye.

She was already in his palace, in his life. He couldn't go back--and wouldn't even if he could. She was so close to him now that it was as if he held her in his palm like a glowing ember--and gave thanks for the pain even as he inhaled the smoke from his burning flesh.

That thought—that she was carrying his babe—steadied him enough to start off again. It was a strange but not unwelcome feeling to know that she carried his child. That someday she would hold a babe against her pretty white breast and that the child would be part of him as well. For the first time in a very long while, he yearned to see tomorrow.

Have you ever noticed that once you have had a tasted of certain sweets- raspberry trifle is my own despair- it is quite impossible not to think, not to want, not to crave until you have taken another bite?

Why me? Because you draw me. Because you are kind but not soft. Because when you touch me, the pain is bittersweet. Because you cradle a desperate secret to your bosom, like a viper in your arms, and don't let go of it even as it gnaws upon your very flesh. I want to pry that viper from your arms. To suckle upon your torn and bloody flesh. To take your pain within myself and make it mine.

She threw one leg over his and straddled his lap, then reached under herself and found him again. He tore his mouth from hers. "Wait." "No." She looked him frankly in the eyes. "I don't care if you spill at once. I need you inside me now." His beautiful eyes widened and then narrowed. "You'll not always hold the reins, my lady." She smiled sweetly. "Naturally not, but I do now.

Seraphine, Seraphine, Seraphine. O most beloved of women, most fiery of saints, never leave me, please. I'll erect columns of white marble to you, build gardens of delights for you, cause ships to sail and warriors to rise for you, if you'll only remain by my side.

He was aware, suddenly, of the chill condensing clammily on his skin, the smell of damp cobblestones, of the very air flowing in and out of his lings. But most of all he was aware of the woman, this woman, his woman, standing so proudly, waiting patiently for him, only him. He walked toward her and knew with every fiber of his being that he walked to life itself.

Mickey cursed under his breath, letting his head fall back against the wall. His c*ck still beat angrily against his clothing. Once he would've simply sent for a whore. Now that thought was oddly unsatisfying. He could have a willing woman, a woman who would do anything he might request of her, even the most exotic acts of sex, but instead his flesh wanted just one woman. A woman who was as fierce in her maternal love as he had been as a boy in his will to survive.

She caught his wrist, stilling the hand on her thigh. Her eyes were a little desperate. What do you mean to do? I'd like to show you my way of making love, he said gently.

She moaned, long and low, wanting to arch, to thrash, to scream. Instead she opened her mouth and bit his shoulder, tasting salt. Tasting want. Then she gasped. Please. What do you want? he whispered in her ear, an incubus, dark and alive and in her. Tell me. What do you need? I... Her mouth opened, wordless. Tell me, his smoky voice curled around her. You. He chuckled, dark and low.

You should leave her entirely. Caire's mouth twisted humourlessly. I find I cannot. Why? St. John shook his head. She isn't even your type. What is my type? St. John glanced away. They both knew well enough the kind of women Caire favoured. There's something about her, Caire said in a low voice. She cares for everyone about her, yet neglects herself. I want to be the one who cares for her.

Diana," he murmured in her ear, licking. "Diana, you are everything I've ever wanted and shall never have." Tears pricked at her eyes and she opened her mouth to sob. "That's it," he said. "Weep for me. Bear my pain. Take my come. For I can give you nothing else.

Overhead the moon guided him, his fair mistress, his unattainable lover.