Quotes About Desire

Her big green eyes drove all conventional greetings clean out of his mind. Oh, what the hell? he thought savagely, and bent his head to kiss her. 'G-Giovanni!' The suitcase fell uselessly from her hand and her fingertips went straight up to his shoulders, biting into the sensually scented leather with an abandon which gathered momentum with each thrust of his tongue as he kissed her with shameless abandon.

She shook her head, but it was too late, and he was pulling her into his arms and bending his head to hers and she supposed that she could have stopped him. Should have stopped him. But no power in the world could have prevented her lips from parting in a sharp little gasp of remembered pleasure as he drove his mouth down like a man who had been starved of kisses.

You look like my every fantasy come to life,' he whispered, his voice deepening. 'How?' she whispered back. 'Wicked. Abandoned. And…' She heard his hesitation, was intrigued by it. 'And what?' 'Here,' he admitted. 'Now. On my bed after too long. Waiting for me to make love to you over and over again.

Part of him wanted to throw her down onto the straw and have done with it. For there was no surer way of losing desire for a woman than to take your fill of her. But he sensed that Eleni might be slow to realise that her duty was to please her sheikh in every aspect that he demanded. His mouth curved into a smile. She would soon learn.

If you didn't yearn for something, you wouldn't be disappointed- and anyway, relationships were a waste of time.

powerful orgasm she'd ever

If she had known all that right from the beginning, then why hadn't she stopped? Why give into something which you knew instinctively was doomed on so many levels? Because human nature wasn't like that. It made you reach out and grab at the unreachable.

To worry is to pray for what you do NOT want!

The doors of Target opened with a welcoming swoosh, and I was instantly distracted. Yeah. Target does that to me. I feel at home. They've got stuff I need. Stuff I don't need. Stuff I didn't even know I wanted. Neatly placed and waiting for me. I love that place.

Qué harías si pudieras volar? -preguntó la señora mientras desviaba la vista del pájaro y la posaba en mí. -¿Es una pregunta para el concurso? -escribí con una sonrisa. -Creo que ya estudiamos todo -respondió sonriendo entre dientes. -Tendría miedo de lanzarme -tecleé. -¿Por temor a caer? -preguntó. -No. Por temor a que la sensación de volar me resultara demasiado agradable -me llevó mucho tiempo escribir eso.

I want to relearn the intervals, to journey with a man among the thirds and fifths, augumented, diminshed, with a light touch, sforzando, rallentando, agitato, the usual adores and dotes - and of course what I reaaly want is some low notes.

How do they do it, the ones who make love without love? How do they come to the come to the come to the God come to the still waters, and not love the one who came there with them, light rising slowly as steam off their joined skin?

Minute by minute, I do not get up and just go to him—

My body may never learn not to yearn for that one

the flesh no one seems now to care to touch.

I tell him I will try to fall out of love with him, but I feel I will love him all my life.

again, again, unquestioned, not fully seen, not wanting to fully see.

We joked about putting it off, but underneath the joking, grim and hidden, he wanted to leave me, and he was working toward it and against it, maybe worried he could not do it, longing for it and fearing it, and not speaking of it

I put my hand on the mastodon of his buoyant hand, which was resting, now, as a swimmer at the end of a stroke may glide, may glide, desire, desire, rest, desire.

I was not the one he wanted to rise from or return to

I have eaten brains, my tongue loves to probe the delicate folds

and some young men loved them the way one would want, oneself, to be loved.

We can't make love out here. It's freezing!" Maryanne cried. A boyishly beseeching look lit up his eyes. "We would heat up quickly." "It's fine for you," she protested. "You only need one part of your body, and you'll be sliding that into warmth.

Electra Gates would never concern herself with how much lard should be in pie dough, I thought; but then, I was not Electra Gates. I wanted pie, something that didn't seem to interest romantic heroines.