Best 17 quotes of S. L. Jennings on MyQuotes

Dorian strokes my exposed back with the tips of his fingers, sending shockwaves up and down my spine. I gasp from the contact, resisting the urge to beg him for more. He brings his face down to my neck, letting his lips brush my earlobe. “Gabriella, I would love to bend you over this desk right now and pull your dress up past your thighs and over your ass,” he murmurs, sex dripping from his soft lips. “That sounds good to me,” I breathe, turning my head a fraction. “What’s stopping you?” Never in my life have I been this bold and eager with a man but Dorian has awakened the sleeping sex giant within me. If my days are numbered, I want to at least die happy. “Oh, I would do it. But I know Aurora will come looking for me and I don’t want to be disturbed when I… ruin you.” Ruin me? It sounds so threatening and violent. I love it.

He was't just my exception. He was my reason.

I blink rapidly, breaking our reverie and force myself to focus on something,anything, other than his beauty. Or his body. A body I want pressed against mine, limbs and tongues twisted and tangled, our flesh contortioned into X-rated abstract art...

I know what this is. I know this is my truth. My past. My present. My future. It is what I knew all along and, like a freaking idiot, ignored because my beautiful illusion was so much better than my tragic reality. For once, I had embraced happiness. Bliss. In spite of finding out what I was, finding out that I was a half Light, half Dark inbreed, I was happy. Even with a damn supernatural assassin out for my blood, I was content. Because of him. He made me whole. A new and improved Gabs. A girl that wanted to be good enough. For him. Fuck. Him.

It reminded me that pain was necessary. Pain was life's curveball. Without it, we would never appreciate what it felt like to be loved.

I've wanted you for so long, Eden. And I know right now you think you want me too. I realise I'm a fool for pretending that this is real- that this could somehow last beyond this night. So I'm asking you… remember me. Just try, even when all thought of me is wiped away clean. Remember me like I’ll remember you for the rest of my tortured existence. Remember that I…

[...] just remember, the storm doesn't last forever. It can scare you; it can shake you to your core. But it never lasts. The rain subsides, the thunder dies, and the winds calm to a soft whisper. And that moment after the storm clouds pass, when all is silent and still, you find peace. Quiet, gentle peace.

Life may not be pretty but it's always beautiful. We may only see the ugliness on the surface. The shit that only the world chooses to notice. But, if we dig deep, if we get to the heart of life, where there's no pain or fear, where we can just be who we are and love freely without judgement, it's really beautiful.

Love. It was the thing that bound us and tore us apart. It was our disease and the remedy of our shattered hearts. It was a sonofabitch.

No child, no matter what path they may have chosen, should be abandoned by the people who should love them the most. When two people come together and make the conscious decision to create a life, they have an obligation to protect and love that child until death.

She'd stutter all the reasons why she shouldn't, shaking her head adamantly. But her body..her body would grow hot with excitement. She'd get wet at the thrill of it. So fucking wet that i'd smell her, telling me she's not even wearing panties to smother her spicy scent. When my hand touched hers, still clutched to her chest, she'd flinch but she wouldn't pull away. She'd let me guide it between her swollen breasts and down to her flat belly, brushing the bit of exposed skin where the hem of her shirt rides up. Then I'd let her fingers play with the jewel in her navel, manipulating each digit as if that diamond-studded barbell was her clit. Demonstrating how I would stroke it for her.

So many years of being lonely and discounted, no one ever truly seeing me, the person that I really am. The Gabriella I so desperately wanted to be. Yet somehow he broke through the walls and barriers and penetrated my frail, dejected heart. He loves me for all that I am and what I will become, even though it scares us both to death. He accepts the darkest parts of me and doesn't try to change me, in all my shattered complexity. Meeting him has given this facade of my life new meaning. He's given me purpose, strength. He's given me love. Dorian has given me everything and, in turn, is everything to me. Designed by the Divine Power especially for me.

SUBJECT: Real original Dear Dark Assholes, I get the point. Showing me that you know how to log onto a computer and utilize Google must’ve taken some pretty keen strategizing on your part. Really, really cool trick. Now leave me the hell alone. -The DL

That's not my shadow, that's my darkness.

[...] when you know, you know. And you don't fight it. You don;t deny the inevitable. You free fall because you know there's someone there to catch you on the other side.

You don't have to be afraid of falling. Just close your eyes, let go, and know that I'll always be here with arms outstretched, ready to catch you.

You saved him just to let him go.” “Yes.” “You knew all along what this meant, yet you did it anyway. You risked your life for him, knowing that it couldn’t work.” “Yes.” Niko laughs sardonically. I look over to find him leaning over, his head in his hands. “What kind of love is that? How could something that’s supposed to bring you joy and triumph be so painful?” “It’s not love. It’s insanity.” He lifts his face from his palms, and meets my eyes. I see that the pain of love he spoke about wasn’t for me or Dorian, it was for him. That was his hurt, his anguish. I’m not the only one who’s insane. “Why do we let them do this to us?” he asks, his voice a broken whisper. “Do what?” “Leave us.” An iridescent speck rolls down his cheek, almost masked by the comfort of the shadows. “Because we’re stupid. And because we’d rather have a moment of happiness than a lifetime of loneliness.” Niko makes a noise in his throat, as if my words strangle him. I turn away, allowing him to suffer in private. “We love the unlovable,” he murmurs. “We save the unsaveable.” “It’s a sickness.” “It’s masochism.” I nod, but I don’t say a word. We’ve already said it all.