Best 2267 quotes in «kissing quotes» category

Absence makes the loins grow hotter.

A deep kiss can put you in an emotional state of coma, sometimes in a reckless vulnerability, we lose virginity and sanity, and maybe our bond of love becomes strong or weak.

Adrian Ivashkov wasn’t easy to surprise, but I surprised him then when I brought his mouth toward mine. I kissed him, and for a moment, he was too stunned to respond. That lasted for, oh, about a second. Then the intensity I’d come to know so well in him returned. He pushed me backward, lifting me so that I sat at the table. The tablecloth bunched up, knocking over some of the glasses. I heard what sounded like a china plate crash against the floor. Whatever logic and reason I normally possessed had melted away. There was nothing but flesh and fire left, and I wasn’t going to lie to myself—at least not tonight.

Adrian tipped my face up toward his and kissed me. Like always, the world around me stopped moving. No, the world became Adrian, only Adrian. Kissing him was as mind-blowing as ever, full of that same passion and need I had never believed I’d feel. But today, there was even more to it. I no longer had any doubt about whether this was wrong or right. It was a culmination of a long journey . . . or maybe the beginning of one. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. I didn’t care that we were out in public. I didn’t care that he was Moroi. All that mattered was that he was Adrian, my Adrian. My match. My partner in crime, in the long battle I’d just signed on for to right the wrongs in the Alchemist and Moroi worlds. Maybe Marcus was right that I’d also signed myself up for disaster, but I didn’t care. In that moment, it seemed that as long as Adrian and I were together, there was no challenge too great for us. I don’t know how long we stood there kissing. Like I said, the world around me was gone. Time had stopped. I was awash in the feel of Adrian’s body against mine, in his scent, and in the taste of his lips. That was all that mattered right now.

After a few brief simple moments, he found her neck, kissing the nape as if it were a peach, grazing her skin barely, causing her to moan out a small tiny little whimper. Before she could take another rbreath, his lips met hers in rapture, and suddenly, she was lost within the tragic abyss of falling beneath a lovebinding spell.

After a few minutes, he decided that kissing wasn't that hard, really, although it certainly wasn't everything it was cracked up to be . . . He tried closing his eyes but it made him uncomfortable, like someone was going to sneak up behind him and plunge a knife into his back.

Again he reached for her. Again he brought her up against him. But this time he showed her how very much he'd restrained himself before. Sliding his hand along the base of her neck, he thrust his fingers in her shorn hair and cradled her skull. He put his open mouth on hers, demanding response at once with the thrust of his tongue, and when she didn't open to him, he nipped at her lower lip. She cried our, an incoherent, startled sound. He was inside. Their first kisses had been exploration, a chance for him to taste her, a chance for her to grow used to him. His tongue thrust rhythmically into the cavity of her mouth. Her lips grew tender under his assault. She hardly knew what to think, what to do... but it didn't matter. He had taken control. The care he'd used the first times he'd kissed her was absent now. This time he sought satisfaction, and he sought it angrily, passionately.

Again he reached for her. Again he brought her up against him. But this time he showed her how very much he'd restrained himself before. Sliding his hand along the base of her neck, he thrust his fingers in her shorn hair and cradled her skull. He put his open mouth on hers, demanding response at once with the thrust of his tongue, and when she didn't open to him, he nipped at her lower lip. She cried out, an incoherent, startled sound. He was inside. Their first kisses had been exploration, a chance for him to taste her, a chance for her to grow used to him. His tongue thrust rhythmically into the cavity of her mouth. Her lips grew tender under his assault. She hardly knew what to think, what to do... but it didn't matter. He had taken control. The care he'd used the first times he'd kissed her was absent now. This time he sought satisfaction, and he sought it angrily, passionately.

A kiss, he said, is a conversation. Easing closer, he continued to speak as he caressed her cheeks with featherlight stokes of his thumbs. "A first kiss", his lips neared hers, is an introduction and then his mouth brushed against hers. The contact sparked, sharp and bright like lightning, yet his lips were soft, unexpectedly so. Her breath caught the same instant his did. Against her mouth he whispered "That was Hello" His breath mingled with hers as he waited, his lips so close she could feel their warmth. For a moment she simply breathed him in growing heady on the scent of him and the tight anticipation gathering in her belly. Then she understood. Nerves fluttering, she brushed her lips across his as he had done. Again his breath hitched, as if he too felt that same spark, that hot need. Her eyes drifted closed and his voice poured over her like warm cream. "This is, 'I'm Jack'.

A kiss-goodnight Can last for hours Moaning into your mouth Licking the sweetness Of my lips Biting softly Holding on To the taste of yours Never wanting To let go Asking you To kiss me forever Asking the goodnight-kiss To become A kiss-good-morning A kiss-I-love-you An entwined faith Of two souls Becoming one In a single moment's kiss...

*A kiss," said Mogget sleepy. "Accualy a breath might do. But you eventualy have to start kissing someone sometimes, I suppose.

A kiss…. ….. is just a kiss…. Until it’s all you reminisce. (Then the memory becomes your most treasured possession.)

A kiss may not be the truth but it is what we wish were true.” L.A. Story (1991) – Harris Telemacher (Steve Martin)

Aleana wasn’t sure she was dreaming but she had some inkling that it might not be fully real. She tried to break through the mental fog she felt, but the vision of Ursula drew her back into the dream. She was truly beautiful and a welcome sight. Aleana gently grasped Ursula’s waist and pulled her down harder, while her lips claimed kiss after sensual kiss from the beauty’s pastel pink lips.

A light rain touches my cheek like an angel's butterfly kisses.

And I don't care what age you are, kissing in the rain is the best.

All men think they're great kissers. Just like you think you're the only decent driver on the road." "Maybe, but I am. Amazing kisser. Dangerously amazing. Your panties would, like, disintegrate, I'm such an awesome kisser.

All that matters is the way he’s angling my face up to his, thumb and forefinger still on my jaw and my chin. It makes me think of someone taking a drink, only the drink in question is my lips. He wants to taste me there, and oh, that’s exactly what it feels like. He doesn’t press his mouth to mine, too hard and too frantic. He just dips in, getting a little of me on his lips before going back for something deeper and sweeter. It’s so much sweeter I could cry. I feel like I’ve been waiting for this for a thousand years, and, if his reaction is anything to go by, so has he.

All the while, my mind reeled with what had happened. I have a hickey. I let Adrian Ivashkov give me a hickey.

All of Her She shows me all of her insecure places And I kiss them until she knows They are beautiful. No dark places To hide in which love Doesn't shower her with acceptance.

And even as I'm kissing him and kissing him and kissing him, I wish I were kissing him, wanting more, more, more, more, like I can't get enough, never will be able to get enough.

And I know when your lips meet mine I feel as though I have never been kissed before.

And now that I've been exposed to this feeling, perfect mouth against perfect mouth, the natural order of things, I wonder why people don't kiss all day, every day. How does anything ever get done?

-and our lips meet with feels-- like not slow motion-- but every moment in my life and the lack of time altogether.

And no matter what closet we were thrown in, up what river we were sold for an embarrassment, or worse, traded for a bottle of gin-- we’d carry on in playful stitches, friends ‘til the end…which came sooner than wished.

And the last remaining pace between our lips were gone and i was falling headlong into her eyes, right there on Palo Verde after dinner. And I can tell you, that was no saint kissing me.

And then he was kissing me like we were both on fire and he was trying to put the flames out, and I kissed him back like an arsonist with a pocketful of matches.

And then, with the feather-green darkness pressed against the windows, he puts his filthy fingers on my scrubbed hope face and says, "If I kiss you, it's all over." And then he does. And then it is.

And then his arms were around me. When he kissed me it was hungrier somehow, as if this moment was all we had, and we had to taste it, drink it, savor it, and not waste a single drop.

And then in a moment of pure magic, our lips touch tenderly and sensitively!

And then I kissed you and, for that second, just for that one moment, the whole world and all its bullshit completely disappeared.

And then she kissed him," he murmurs, "and all manner of thought left his head. It was a kiss he had dreamed about, but it was a thousand times better than his dreams. And he was ruined in all the best ways...and he'd never be the same again.

And we kissed again. It was a warm, indescribably lovely feeling. But it was more than just physical. It was a dialogue between two young people with high ideals and a Big Plan. It was about belonging, secrets, partnership, commitment.

And when you are being kissed like this, you are Christmas Day; you are the moon shot; you are field larks. My shoes were suddenly worth a million pounds, and my breath was the ethyl in champagne. When someone kisses you like this, you are the point of everything.

And this is the potency a first kiss should have: it should be earned. The moments leading up to it should be as tense as a crossbow drawn back. The reader should want it as badly as the hero and heroine, and feel as satisfied and transported and transformed as the hero and heroine in the wake of it. There are different ways to use kisses in a romance, but that first kiss is so meaningful, a pinnacle, and can be more intimate than sex.

And we were kissing like drowning people breathe-- like suddenly we'd discovered something that has never been so sweet before that moment.

And you know what? My kisses are mine. I don't have to explain them to anyone, I'll give them out as I see fit and to whomever I want. Like money. Except that everyone has kisses, they're much more democratic, and a lot more dangerous too, since they put us all on the same level. And if you did the same, if we all did the same, the world might be a little more chaotic but a lot more fun.

Apples are kissing other apples. Gray cats are kissing other gray cats. Trees are kissing trees. You and I are not kissing. We work in an office together. We are both married to other people. It is okay because we only have ideas, you and I, about whether we should kiss or not. These ideas are both good and bad, probably. At work, we do not say these words aloud but make elaborate diagrams for one another. You write these words: Kissing you would be like this, and draw a picture of two butterflies being struck by lightning. I stare at it and wonder if you may be right. I do my own drawing and write, Kissing you would be like this, and sketch a picture of a man made of ice kissing a woman who is actually a stove. We have made hundreds of these drawings. We do not actually do any work.

Angel slowly closed her door then sighed as she leaned against it feeling the sudden loss of her new love leaving for a while which they forgot to exchange on, and they have a positive outcome. Soon as Angel got up from the door, her doorbell rang she was hoping it was just Jana coming back again for something else, but when she looked at the peephole she saw it was Scarlett so she sighed and unlocked her door saying, "What do you need Scarlett? We broke up a long time ago." Scarlett pushed Angel inside, and they both landed on the couch as Scarlett kissed her long and hard as Angel try to shove her off then once she pushed her off saying, "What do you want Scarlett?" Scarlett gave a sweet smile replying, "I want you back of course baby, you are my world I realize that." Angel shoved her out of the apartment replying, "Get the heck out of here and never come back, you found love in someone else and so have I, so get out, GET OUT!

At that very first kiss of my life I felt something melt inside me that hurt in an exquisite way. All my longings, all my dreams and sweet anguish, all the secrets that slept deep within my limbic brain came awake. I felt billions of Beach Boys playing their sweet melody inside my heart in perfect harmony with the universe.

A rugged-looking fellow with long, curly black hair loosened his jaw by repeating the phrase, “red leather, yellow leather, red leather, yellow leather.” I wondered if that was a secret exercise actors did before kissing scenes [Cram, Cusi, "‘One Life to Live’ and 14 Beautiful Boys to Kiss," Cafe, January 14, 2015].

A smile is worth dozens of words, but a kiss is worth a thousand.

As he was bringing his hands up her sides, his fingers just barely brushed the outer curve of her breasts, and she gasped into his mouth. Shane immediately sat her upright, and moved to the other end of the couch. His face was flushed; his eyes were bright and no longer looked even a little bit tired. “No,’” he said, and held out his hand like a traffic cop when she tried to scoot closer. “Red flag. If you make that sound again, we are in trouble. Or I am, anyway.

As long as you're better at it than skating...," Anna said and stood up too. She wanted to say more, but that wasn't possible because he was kissing her. Reasonable Anna wanted to draw back the danger of touch. But unreasonable Anna welcomed the kiss like happiness. Maybe, she thought, it's better to take these moments when you get them - there might not be too many in life.

As you know from our trips to Belmont Park in San Diego, I can scream like a girl when required.” he said. Angie laughed then she grabbed him by the face and planted a kiss on the lips so fierce, Mel wondered if it was Angie’s way of putting a lip-lock protective spell on her man. She hoped it was and she hoped it worked.

At the first kiss I felt something melt inside me that hurt in an exquisite way. All my longings, all my dreams and sweet anguish, All the secrets that slept deep within me came awake, Everything was transformed and enchanted, everything made sense.

Before you leave," he said softly, "I have some advice for you. It's not safe for a young woman to wander alone through the hotel. Don't take such a foolish risk again." Poppy stiffened. "It's a reputable hotel," she said. "I have nothing to fear." "Of course you do," he murmured. "You're looking right at it." And before she could think, or move, or breathe, he bent his head and took her mouth with his. Stunned, Poppy went motionless beneath the soft, burning kiss, so subtle in its demand that she wasn't aware of the moment her own lips parted. His hands came to her jaw, cradling, angling her face upward. One arm slid around her, bringing her body fully against his, and the feel of him was hard and richly stimulating. With every breath, she drew in an enticing scent, an incense of amber and musk, starched linen and male skin. She should have struggled in his arms... but his mouth was so tenderly persuasive, erotic, imparting messages of peril and promise. His lips slid to her throat and he hunted for her pulse, working his way downward, layering sensations like silken gauze until she shivered and arched away from him. "No," she said weakly. The stranger gripped her chin carefully, forcing her to look at him. They both went still. As Poppy met his searching gaze, she saw a flash of baffled animosity, as if he had just made some unwelcome discovery.

Ba't ba naghahalikan ang mga utaw? Para magpalitan ng laway? Magdikit ang mga dila? Bakit hindi mga ilong na gaya sa ibang bansa, o kaya ay mga balikat? Bakit maski sa pisngi lang siya nahalikan ni Homer ay parang ang kaluluwa niya ang tinamaan ng nguso nito? At andito na rin lang tayo sa subject ng paghahalikan, me pagkakaiba ba kapag lalaki o babae o kapwa lalaki o kapwa babae ang mga ngusong nagdidikit? Paano ang mga walang nguso?

Before he could say my name, I closed the space between us. Quickly, my lips moved against his. The mental and emotional emptiness took over instantly, but physically, I was more alert than ever. Wesley’s surprise didn’t last as long as it had before, and his hands were on me in seconds. My fingers tangled in his soft hair, and Wesley’s tongue darted into my mouth and became a new weapon in our war. Once again, my body took complete control of everything. Nothing existed at the corners of my mind; no irritating thoughts harassed me. Even the sounds of Wesley’s stereo, which had been playing some piano rock I didn’t recognize, faded away as my sense of touch heightened. I was fully conscious of Wesley’s hand as it slid up my torso and moved to cup my breast. With an effort, I pushed him away from me. His eyes were wide as he leaned back. “Please don’t slap me again,” he said. “Shut up.” I could have stopped there. I could have stood up and left the room. I could have let that kiss be the end of it. But I didn’t. The mind-numbing sensation I got from kissing him was so euphoric-such a high-that I couldn’t stand to give it up that fast. I might have hated Wesley Rush, but he held the key to my escape, and at that moment I wanted him… I needed him. Without speaking, without hesitating, I pulled my T-shirt over my head and threw it onto Wesley’s bedroom floor. He didn’t have a chance to say anything before I put my hands on his shoulders and shoved him onto his back. A second later, I was straddling him and we were kissing again. His fingers undid the clasp on my bra, and it joined my shirt on the floor. I didn’t care. I didn’t feel self-conscious or shy. I mean, he already knew I was the Duff, and it wasn’t like I had to impress him. I unbuttoned his shirt as he pulled the alligator clip from my hair and let the auburn waves fall around us. Casey had been right. Wesley had a great body. The skin pulled tight over his sculpted chest, and my hands drifted down his muscular arms with amazement. His lips moved to my neck, giving me a moment to breathe. I could only smell his cologne this close to him. As his mouth traveled down my shoulder, a thought pushed through the exhilaration. I wondered why he hadn’t shoved me-Duffy-away in disgust. Then again, I realized, Wesley wasn’t known for rejecting girls. And I was the one who should have been disgusted. But his mouth pressed into mine again, and that tiny, fleeting thought died. Acting on instinct, I pulled on Wesley’s lower lip with my teeth, and he moaned quietly. His hands moved over my ribs, sending chills up my spine. Bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss. Only once, as Wesley flipped me onto my back, did I seriously consider stopping. He looked down at me, and his skilled hand grasped the zipper on my jeans. My dormant brain stirred, and I asked myself if things had gone too far. I thought about pushing him away, ending it right where we were. But why would I stop now? What did I stand to lose? Yet what could I possibly gain? How would I feel about this in an hour… or sooner? Before I could come up with any answers, Wesley had my jeans and underwear off. He pulled a condom from his pocket (okay, now that I’m thinking about it, who keeps condoms in their pockets? Wallet, yes, but pocket? Pretty presumptuous, don’t you think?), and then his pants were on the floor, too. All of a sudden, we were having sex, and my thoughts were muted again.

Before he could stop himself, Carlos pulled Michael down into a kiss, letting his lips and tongue communicate everything he'd been bottling up for days – months, if he was being honest with himself. Michael responded with a tenderness that begged to be answered, plying his mouth with soft, teasing kisses until Carlos pulled away, moving until their lips were a hairsbreadth apart. “We don't have to stop,” Michael whispered.