Best 223 quotes in «sensual quotes» category

By the way, the future is not feminine anymore. It is sensual. It is sensual women (and men) who will enjoy the good of the land, or the best of the world.

By the way, the future is not female anymore. It is sensual. It is sensual women (and men) who will enjoy the good of the land, or the best of the world.

Carnal apple, Woman filled, burning moon, dark smell of seaweed, crush of mud and light, what secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars? What primal night does Man touch with his senses? Ay, Love is a journey through waters and stars, through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain: Love is a war of lightning, and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness. Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity, your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages, and a genital fire, transformed by delight, slips through the narrow channels of blood to precipitate a nocturnal carnation, to be, and be nothing but light in the dark.

Charles, if you were here right now, I'd totally kiss you." He chuckled softly. "I get that a lot, but I doubt my boyfriend will approve.

Close your eyes, Sophia. Look at the table in your mind. What does it look like? What's on the menu? Taste it. Tell me." She closed her eyes. Enveloped by all that was Elliott. She tried to concentrate and ignore those rough fingers on her cheek. "Shrimp wrapped in Thai basil and prosciutto, crisped on the grill, drizzled with olive oil and fresh lime juice. It's Emilia's favorite." "Mmm. Keep going. Don't stop." His lips were almost touching her forehead. His breath on her skin. "Grilled filet mignon with my peppercorn sauce. White, red, pink peppercorns. The girls get them for me when they travel. That's our special dinner. Our decadent meal." "More." His lips grazed her ear. Sophia's eyes were tightly shut, but she had to suppress a shudder. "Vegetable salad on baby greens from my garden. Yellow peppers, green zucchini, purple eggplant, lightly grilled. With a sherry vinaigrette and fresh herbs. All the colors of the rainbow." "Lovely. Keep going." She could no longer hear the buzz of crickets or throaty calls of the frogs. Just Elliott's breathing. Steady. Intense. "Wine, lots of wine," she said huskily. She felt his chuckle against her cheek. "Well, this is my fantasy, right? It must have wine." "Of course it does. Keep going." "Home-made gelato. Lemon. With lemon zest and lemon basil and lemon verbena. And crunchy toasted macadamia nuts on top.

Corporeal reality is much more rich and precious than we realize. It feels good to have a body, to surge on currents of emotion, to have nerve endings, mitochondria in our cells, tangible focused energy, the embodiment of light — given a voice.

Did you want to change into something more comfortable?” Adrian asks with a raise in his eyebrows, breaking me out of my train of thought, but not away from naughty thoughts. I smack his knee. “I'm comfortable, but I know you're not.” He doesn't mind dressing up, but on most days I see him in casual clothes like screen-printed tees and hoodies. “You're right,” he says, tapping my knee lightly, standing up. As he walks toward the hallway, he slips his shirt off the rest of the way. I can't look away from the sight, even if it is only from the back. Damn. What is happening to me? Have I gone mad? Before I can tear my eyes away from him, he turns around. Judging by the look in his eyes, I've been caught. I have so been caught. Damn again. I didn't want him to see me practically drooling. It's too late for that now. He smirks. “You know, I could spend the rest of the night just like this.” He places a hand to the hard muscles of his chest. I clear my throat, trying really hard not to imagine my hand in place of his, and say, “If I'm wearing clothes, you're wearing clothes.” “So if I'm not wearing clothes...” I grab a coaster from the coffee table and fling it at him. He catches it in his hand. “Just remember, all you have to do is say otherwise.

Design your sensual lifestyle down to the last detail. Nothing must be arbitrary or left to chance. Care and accuracy in the design process show that you have absolute respect for yourself and your life.

Do you know how hard it’s been to not fuck you this whole journey?" he asked inside my head. “Why can’t I make love to you? Your husband sent you off to breed with a vampire.” Samuel’s fangs retracted. “Last time I checked, I was a vampire.

Ever since I drank your blood, my head has been crazy... I won’t lie. The connection gives me a lot of power over you. I could read your thoughts and speak to you wherever I am, even several miles away.

Fear has always been a very important whistleblower. Our emotion and our history can provoke fear that may arrest us at any time or at any place. Above and beyond, fear might be contagious and its scent, sometimes sensual, sometimes mystical or animal, can exude the musty and arcane smell of destiny. ("One could still feel the smell of fear" )

Every design choice we make has a sensory effect on us.

Haunted by the longing to feel something real, deep and magical; I searched for a shared ecstasy... that's when you came along.

Find a partner who is into sensual living, if you are into it as well. It makes life so much easier, deeply nourishing and a lot of fun. Sudi Piggott boldly said, "Meals dictate my life... I use food to choose my friends. I have recently split from my husband, and if I find a new partner he must be into food.

Finn pulled away from her mouth to look at Navi, her full lips swollen and a dusky flush on her cheeks. “Do or die time, babe,” he murmured against her mouth. “You let this beast off the leash and I’m not going to stop.” Her mouth curled into a sensual smile, and her hazel eyes glowed with the challenge. “Do your worst, Finn Kelly.

He laughed and came forward impulsively to kiss her—his affection a potent thing, a flourish of light. She was smiling, her tears feeling fresh on her face. He smelled of sweat and roses. She felt it in the palms of her hands, in her loins. It was right. It was Southampton she had wanted all along.

…he grabbed my hand again. That same warmth hit me, seeping into my skin. I bit my lip and forced myself not to relish in the tingling heat. Samuel’s eyes widened. Fangs erupted from his gums. His nostrils flared as he inhaled me.

He growled. The noise echoed through the area. Birds flew from the trees. They appeared like dark dots in the starry sky.

Here with her, he wasn’t the son of Kylock Sr., he wasn’t an arrogant prat and he most definitely wasn’t a gentleman.

Here, illuminated at last, Nestles the ruddy glint of spiritual certainty; Sweet moments of passion and healing, Of sensual release.

Her face was made of angular planes, the shape of her mouth clear-cut, a sensual mouth held closed with inflexible precision. She kept her hands in the coat pockets, her posture taut, as if she resented immobility...

Her smoky gaze held his intently, as though silently demanding something of him. Stopping at the side of the bed, he studied the stretch of her body. She so eloquently displayed both shameless sensuality and innocent anticipation. She was maiden and courtesan together. Bold and modest. So many sumptuous curves and mysterious shadows. Beautiful and all his.

Her veins flowed with liquid poetry. I stole the words from her mouth with my kisses.

His power sings to your blood. I witnessed your reaction to him just now. He’ll be a king in a few years... And you’ll be his queen.

He’s kissing me everywhere, squeezing me, running his fingers over places no one else has touched

His lightest touch brought joy, brought comfort and a sense of belonging.

His gaze drank me in and he made no attempt to conceal that fact.

I convinced myself that, as a principle, cheating was off-limits, but it scared the shit out of me that it could be where I was heading.

I call you domina because that’s what you are,” Samuel insisted. “It’s what I was. Now I’m just Brie. What if I only called you pathfinder?

I could fall in love with you and have no regrets... I want you so bad. You’ll never understand how much.

If you are not appetisers, main course and dessert, you are dating the wrong diner...

I enjoyed my delicious bowl of onion soup with crusty bread so much that late afternoon. Meanwhile, it dawned on me that in me lives a love that most women won’t be able to comprehend.

If you ask me why men cheat, it's all about their quest for sensuality. Ladies, your understanding of the sensual world is very crucial.

If your relationship doesn't make prudishness and promiscuity seem pointless, it has not yet reached the right level of sensual authenticity.

If you can't get a quality man, then you're probably not in touch with your feminine side. Remember, your femininity has a divine mandate to hook you up.

If your ultimate goal is to have orgasms, you're still in kindergarten. Orgasms are not the destination, sensual freedom is. Sensual freedom is about falling in love with the PROCESS that's meant to take you DEEP. This process is an endless journey filled with adventure, discovery, and deep revelations of what it means to be intimate and attain levels of fulfillment that transcend all human comprehension. Sensual freedom is essentially connecting to the spirit of worship. Worship is a spiritual way of expressing your ultimate desires and passion for the one you deeply admire or are intoxicated by.

If your sensuality is not at the top of your priority list, you have not yet discovered the true meaning of self love. .

In your fullest sensual expression lies your ultimate truth.

If you want too much explaining from him, you're probably not tuned enough into your own sensuality. 90% of your communication with your man isn't supposed to be verbal, it's supposed to be sensual.

I’m impressed you left to keep everyone safe.” He tenderly massaged the area above my hipbone with his right thumb. “I’ve seen vampire men cry and piss their pants after one hour in the sewers by themselves. You’ve been walking most of the day and all alone.

I need a drink. Now.” After tossing—fine, throwing—my purse and keys on the couch, I march straight into the kitchen. No more delays; it's time to forget tonight. It’s been yet another night like all the other first dates that never meet a second one. When you begin to lose count, that's when it's really time for a drink. Adrian stands there, leaning against the counter in an unbuttoned dress shirt and dark wash jeans. He glances at me as I walk in. “How was your date?” he asks, taking a swig of his scotch. I brush past him on my mission, opening the cupboard and moving a couple bottles around. I reiterate, “I need alcohol.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him hiding a smile before he says, “That bad?” My face twitches as I ignore his line of questioning. It is more like a statement he wants me to clarify, even though he already knows the answer. Instead, I ask, “I have vodka left, don't I?” I stand on my tiptoes in hopes of spotting something in the very back. Nothing. He waltzes over and looks with me, his chin almost touching my shoulder. “I think you polished that one off after last week's date.” His voice is low right next to my ear, very nearly causing a shiver.

Inside, on a bed of black velvet, lay an exquisite perfume bottle designed from rose-colored glass caged in a silver overlay that twined about the glass like living vines. In the very center of the oval shaped bottle, the silver was formed into the image of a lily in full bloom. It was likely the most precious and expensive gift Lily had ever been given. She ran her fingertips over the delicate silver work before lifting the bottle from its velvet bed to allow the candlelight to shine through the rose-colored glass. She noticed then a folded slip of paper still in the box. Setting the perfume bottle in the valley of her lap, she lifted the paper and broke the tiny wax seal. In his precise, slanted script, Lord Harte had written: I was unforgivably remiss in not having a gift for you the other night. I chose the elements for this blend myself. It made me think of you. Lily brushed her thumb over the ink before setting the note back into the box. Then she shifted the bottle and removed the glass stopper. The scent wafting from the bottle was light, but heady. She noticed first the rich notes of clove and honey before her senses were claimed by the smooth, velvety scent of jasmine. Lily closed her eyes, allowing the aromatic infusion to settle into her awareness. There was another element hidden deep within the perfume. A layer of earthiness that warmed her blood. Sandalwood. Lily was enthralled. It was a complex and lovely scent. Floral and exotic, light and dark. Impossibly sensual. And it made him think of her. Something deep and fundamental spread through her core, and she understood why young ladies were warned so often not to accept gifts from gentlemen. It was a personal and intimate thing to acknowledge how he had wanted her to have something he chose himself.

I shuddered at the thought of what I would do for her if she asked—kill, steal, desecrate the holy god Ambi, destroy cities and masses of people just at her command.

I shoved his arm with all my strength, but it wouldn’t budge. His waist rippled with sculpted muscles. His chest and shoulders bulged and spoke of great strength. It was one thing to assume he had a big frame, another to have it confirmed with the moon's light.

I swallowed him down like liquid decadence and begged for more.

May All Your Fantasies Come True !!!!

It seems that by the time the singular beauty of a flower in bloom can no longer pierce the veil of black or obsessive thoughts in a person's mind, that mind's connection to the sensual world has grown dangerously frayed.

I was asked: You write some intimate scenes in your stories on You Me & Stories but they are not explicit. Why so? Have you considered writing an erotica? Why would I want to write a sex scene in detail, when the actual fun is in guiding the reader, helping them visualise and letting their imagination run wild! To answer the second part of the question - No. I am happy with the way I write now. There is a very thin line between sensual and erotica. I prefer staying on the sensual side.

Little girl, you could wrap my cock in duct tape, and I'll still make you see God.

Look back at your life. It's always the hardest times that made you sensual.