Quotes About Desire

Dear God," he said, still softly. "I couldna look at ye, Sassenach, and keep my hands from you, nor have ye near me, and not want ye.

I stood in front of him in nothing but my shoes and gartered rose-silk stockings.

And his release began, deep inside me, without his moving, shivering through his body so that his arms trembled, the ruddy hairs quivering in the dim light, and he dropped his head with a sound like a sob, his hair hiding his face as he spilled himself, each jerk and pulse of his flesh between my legs rousing an echo in my own.

And I want only to throw myself into it and be consumed.

I cried then, holding nothing back. For empty years, yearning for the touch of a hand. Hollow years, lying beside a man I had betrayed, for whom I had no tenderness. For the terrors and doubts and griefs of the day. Cried for him and me and for Mary MacNab, who knew what loneliness was—and what love was, as well.

I could feel his heart beating against my ribs, and wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, not moving

He smelt strongly of woodsmoke, blood, and unwashed male, but the night chill bit through my thin dress and I was happy enough to lean back against him.

I have yearned always," he said softly, "for love given and returned; have spent my life in the attempt to give my love to those who were not worthy of it. Allow me this: to give my life for the sake of one who is.

To the last drop of my blood, mo duinne." "Mo duinne" I asked, a little disturbed by the intensity of this speech. (…) "It means 'my brown one.' " He raised a lock of hair to his lips and smiled, with a look in his eyes that started all the drops of my own blood chasing each other through my veins. "Mo duinne," he repeated, softly. "I have been longing to say that to you.

Come to me. Cover me. Shelter me, a bhean, heal me. Burn with me, as I burn for you.

Does it ever stop? The wanting you?

You'll lie wi' me now," he said quietly. "And I shall use ye as I must. And if you'll have your revenge for it, then take it and welcome, for my soul is yours, in all the black corners of it.

You will never satisfy a woman," she said softly. "Any woman who shared your bed will leave after no more than a single night, cursing you." "Very likely, madam," he said. "Good night.

The simple act of writing Fraser's name had given him a sense of connexion, and he realized that the desperate need for such connexion was what had driven him to write it.

could murder a plateful of eggs.

It starts out the same, but then, after a moment," he said, speaking softly, "suddenly it's as though I've a living flame in my arms." His touch grew firmer, outlining my lips and caressing the line of my jaw. "And I want only to throw myself into it and be consumed." I

Though I could wish your own limits went a bit further.

Mo nighean donn," he whispered, "mo chridhe. My brown lass, my heart." "Come to me. Cover me. Shelter me, a bhean, heal me. Burn with me, as I burn for you.

Diana Gabaldon

What it is between us, when I touch you, when you … lie with me? Is it always so between a man and a woman?" In spite of his difficulties, I knew exactly what he meant. His gaze was direct, holding my eyes as he waited my answer. I wanted to look away, but couldn't. "There's often something like it," I said, and had to stop and clear my throat. "But no. No, it isn't—usual. I have no idea why, but no. This is … different.

Until we two be burned to ashes.

He grabbed her and held on, thinking that nothing in his life had ever felt better than the weight of her against him and the taste of her mouth, in spite of the fact that she'd plainly eaten onions for lunch

da mi basia mille, diende centum, dein mille altera, dein secunda centum Ã¢â'¬Â¦

I thought of telling him that his own touch seared my skin and filled my veins with fire. But I was already alight and glowing like a brand. I closed my eyes and felt the kindling touch move to cheek and temple, ear and neck, and shuddered as his hands dropped to my waist and drew me close.