Quotes About Desire

Gwladus stood before her, close enough to smell. Hild didn't look up. If she did, she would pull Gwladus close and never let her go.

I sipped, and the hot liquor eased the pain in the center of my chest, warmed the unfallen tears, made me long to bury my face in a woman's hair. In Julia's hair.

She might wish Bony were bigger, and she might wish for a shield, but this was what she had.

Wolf eyes," she whispered, and I could feel her breath on my throat, "so pale and hungry.

The lustre, like the sheen of rum honey or parsnips cooked in butter made her want to put it in her mouth, she put it down reluctantly.

The urge to roam increased upon her like a thirst.

Now when she spied on women and men she crept close and closer, closer than was safe, because she was drawn to the curve of a lip, the gleam of sweat on a throat, and she longed to feel the weigh of glossy hair on her skin.

For a moment my face hung near the opening of her robe, and I breathed in the soft, buttered-toast scent of sleepy, naked woman.

Not that I'm sure I want to have a child, you know? We've enough to deal with, with Jink's two. But it would be nice to have the choice. It would make me feel as though I belong.

I kissed her, and stroked the soft planes of flank and thigh, teased with a fingertip and breath and gaze, and when she shuddered like a kite on a long line, when she began to whip and plunge, when she begged me, I turned her and steadied her and let her loose. It was always the same. They flew and I flew, but to different places.

I don't want to be here alone. I want you to stay." "People don't stay just because you want them to.

Bed games were one thing, keys another.

In the flickering ochre-and-gold light, Peretur saw the heat rise in Nimuë's cheeks, and her lips redder, and her own belly warmed, and she filled with another hunger.

She knew that scent, and her need rose like the tide.

Gwenhwyfar looked at her husband and quivered like a leashed hound with the scent.

I ached for them. Most of them would not be able to cling to their bubble world; one day someone, something would thrust it. I wished it could be different.

The lack was more in his soul than his body.

She looked him in the eye, the eyes she'd seen wide with lust, not with tears, shining with joy.

She could have taken her sexual energy and smoothed it down, but she wanted to let it burn through her, she wanted to enjoy being alive.

As she rode, her dreams filled with that yielding breast and warm breath and those luscious lips until she thought she might run mad.

Her lips were soft and plump as rain and Peretur wanted to plunge her hands deep into her golden yellow hair, deep under her skirts to the soft places beneath, and she could feel their hearts thundering like horss, like hoses yoked and racing together, pulling towards the same goal, beanth tearing in and out.

Quisiéramos no acariciar el cuerpo que amamos, sino ser la caricia.

An aristocratic society is one where the desire for personal perfection is the animating spirit of the social institutions.

Yesterday we believed that it was sufficient to scorn what man achieves; today we know that we must also scorn what he desires.