Quotes About Desire

No one could hear them over the carriage wheels, yet somehow it felt right to whisper. His eyes dropped to her gaping bodice. One nipple was reddened and still moist. He averted his eyes, swallowing. His erection, silly thing, didn't know the show was over.

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.

Oh, Séraphine, he purred, pushing his nose close to her jaw to inhale her righteous scent. Who do you suppose sits in Parliament? Who makes the laws, runs the government of this great and lofty nation, hmm? She hadn't bathed this morning, he could tell, and she smelled of herself: woman, sweat, sex. He licked across her cheek, tasting salt and pure saint, to her mouth. He bit her lips. Once, twice, a third time, wanting, craving .

And she arched, screaming, the lightning blazing from her center, sparking through her limbs, flying out her fingertips. She was incandescent. He fell atop her, heavy and male, pulling her legs up around his narrow hips, and ground down into her, once, twice. His cock jerked within her and she could feel every muscle in his body tense. He groaned into her ear like a man dying and then fell senseless and limp. And as she followed him into exhausted slumber she heard his single word: Mine .

Oh, how she wanted this man! She wanted to hold him like this tomorrow and fifty years hence. She wanted to be by his side every morning when he woke, she wanted his to be the last voice she heard before she fell asleep at night.

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.

She pulled back and murmured, "I'm still mad at you." "Are you?" His wounded voice had descended into Stygian depths. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to her jaw. "Yes." She yanked at his hair in emphasis. He grunted, but her grip didn't prevent him from lowering his mouth to hers again. He nipped at her lips and then licked at them, softening the sting. "I'll have to see what I can do to regain your good graces.

Why? she asked urgently. Why me? Because, he murmured, you draw me. Because you are kind but not soft. 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 on your very flesh. I want to pry that viper from your arms. To take that pain within myself and make it mine.

He was like a young tiger, all muscle and passion, and she wanted to ride him--not to tame the beast, but to feel for a small moment all of his vitality.

She flew in, all fiery flashing eyes and flushed cheeks, her bosom heaving beneath black wool. She was magnificent. Tell them to let her go! Séraphine ordered him imperiously. Tell them to let her go right now . She stood over him, her lips wet, her body shaking with her rage, and he wanted to take her and roll her beneath him and fuck her into the mattress.

I'm afraid I'm rather used to females making themselves shameless for me.

It would be the height of idiocy for the Duke of Wakefield to pursue the cousin of the woman he wanted as wife. And yet, for the first time in his life, Maximus wanted to let the man rule him instead of the title.

She was lost. He broke their kiss and laid his forehead against hers. "Make me stop." "I can't," she whispered. "Then… we're doomed," he said, his voice husky and low.

He attacked her throat and she was so startled by the sudden move that she squeaked. He was laving her with his tongue, openmouthed, and she moaned, arching, wondering wildly if this was the same man who wore pink silk coats and black velvet bows. This seemed so base , so animal. Not at all like the effete aristocrat she thought she knew.

He was like a star in the night sky above and she but a sparrow. No matter how high she might try to fly, she'd never reach him.

The duke brought her hand to his mouth and, his azure eyes glittering in the candlelight, pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. And then the edge of his teeth. She felt the warm softness of his lips, the prickle of against tender skin, and a sort of shock seemed to go straight through the center of her body. He let her go and her wrist felt the cold of night. Séraphine. The burning one. I should've known.

He was covered, of course, but she knew what lay beneath the sheets- she'd seen him entirely nude at the Lords' revels. She had the image burned into her memory: a proud, thick penis, heavy sac, and curling midnight hair. If the coverlet slipped just a little bit downward, she would see the upper edge of that nest of black hair. The thought made her press her thighs together under her dress. Did he know how his body affected her?

You're not to go wading in my pond again," he said. She shrugged and picked up her shoes and stockings where they lay on the path. "Very well, Your Grace, but it's a great pity. I should've liked to go swimming.

I need you. He licked her bruised lip to soothe it. I can't think straight without you. My world is all turned around, and I go through it in pain, wanting to hurt someone.

Then I wish I had it in my power to make him live without the sun for the rest of his pitiful life." She stopped and glanced at him. "That's a romantic thing to say." He shook his head. "I'm not a romantic man, Miss Greaves. I don't say things that I don't mean. I find it a waste of time.

Why then was he taking her? Was it merely for his own amusement- or was it for some other, more sinister reason? After all, only two days before she'd seen him kill a footman in cold blood. Of course Cal had tried to kill the duke in a particularly awful and vicious way. But then afterward the duke had kissed her as she'd never been kissed in all her life. His tongue had tasted of wine and sin and she'd wanted to moan and rub herself against him as he'd tilted her back over his arm.

Besides, they'll all know soon enough, won't they? That I'm your mistress?" He snorted, hitting the bed with one arm as he sprawled. She raised a delicate eyebrow. "That is what you want, isn't it?" "I can't have what I want." "Can't you?" Her voice was light, nearly careless. "But you're the Duke of Wakefield, one of the most powerful men in England.

The sight of her was like a swift, cool wind through his frame, quickening his body, alerting all his senses, making him completely aware he was a male and she a female.