Best 565 quotes in «erotica quotes» category

Maybe you’re smiling as I stumble to put my feelings into words. But I’m trying to do her justice, you know?

Meet Jake — He’s illegally hot and his dirty-talking will make you dizzy! Meet Hunter— He’s outspoken, impulsive and a rugged piece of eye candy! These Two Alpha Billionaires Believe In Sharing...Everything!

Men feel about sex the way vampires feel about blood. They don't just like it, they crave it. That's why vampire stories always have strong sexual undercurrents. A vampire's hunger is simply a metaphor for a man's lust.

Most of the books of erotic poetry available today are either too old or are big anthologies covering the same poets and poems. There is a lack of new and original work. Most of us have read something from Ovid, Sappho, Shakespeare, the ancient Greeks, the Romans, or from the Kama Sutra. But love is a theme that should be celebrated with freshness.

Mr. Montgomery pushes the envelope. It's everything we shouldn't do, yet, he makes us want to, anyway.

Mr. Carter cleared his throat. “Soy sauce.” He deadpanned. “Really, Sera?

Murmuring soothing noises, Dallas settled himself between her thighs and pressed a soft kiss to her clit. "You're all right." He eased the second sphere out of her. "I've got you." She laughed and covered her face with her hands. "No, you don't. I can't stop spinning." He dropped another kiss, this time to her inner thigh. "Nothing wrong with spinning." One final tug and another full-body shudder from Lex, and he tossed the toy aside. "I'll catch you, love. I'll always catch you." "Will you?" She traced his jaw. "Even when you're spinning with me?" "Especially then.

My eyes glue to him in fascination as he cleans his flogger. He’s shirtless since the room is above comfortable temperature. I watch as a drop of sweat creates a path down his back, gliding around all those perfect striated muscles. The drop disappears beneath his low-slung, leather pants. A shiver rocks my body at the thought of it sliding down the crack of his bitable ass. “Katya, snap your mouth shut, close the door, and have a seat,” Dexter commands and I listen.

My eyes refuse to let him leave, but he stands still holding my hand, lingering for as long as possible.

My fingers are wet. I haven’t even got passed your panties yet.

My knees were weak but he held me with one hand, guiding me with the motion of his hips. I was completely his to do with what he wanted and he knew it.

My head drops back and I have a fleeting out-of-body moment where I see myself in the window, my hands tied above my head with my legs wrapped around the neck of Chris Merit, while he does delicious things to my body.

My latest battle had nothing to do with The Company, the rebels, or any other faction. It was out-and-out warfare between my head and my heart. Keeping it cool during daylight, versus nighttime, when I unleashed my passion for him. ... Turned out the Wilderness was a lot more hostile than me.

Nolan,” she said. “I’m…” Scared. Say it. Tell him the truth. But her mouth remained still against his. She couldn’t tell him how badly she wanted to pull him close, because then she may not let go. She couldn’t tell him how terrified she was that she’d get lost again to another man. He cupped her face, silently coaxing her to finish her sentence. “You’re what, love?” Her eyes met his. “I’m broken.

My very core clenches and spasms, my hips with a mind of their own, lurch. It is as if I no longer have control of any part of my body. ‘Ugh,’ I continue to groan in relief. And then, slowly, the rush is over and I am able to part my eyelids again. David is still looking at my face, a light sheen of sweat on his brow indicates that his task was not without effort. Finding his gaze too forthright in the current circumstances, my eyes move to the arm that still dwells beneath my skirts and the hand that clings viciously to his sleeve. My hand.

New Englanders could be so brusque.

No means no. And ask before you touch

No one can tell your story so tell it yourself. No one can write your story so write it yourself.

My new elf husband wasted no time in carrying me to the bed, then tumbling us both onto the coverlet.

Next to God, Family is the best thing.

No podía perder a Kisha. Evocó sus labios rosados, tan jugosos y dulces, y la forma en que lo besaban. La suave forma de su rostro, y la manera en que el dorado pelo le caía sobre los hombros, o se desparramaba sobre la almohada cuando le hacía el amor. Los tiernos gemidos que salían por su boca mientras él la acariciaba. Las duras puntas que coronaban sus pechos, y como se arrugaban y se endurecían todavía mas cuando él las lamía. El aroma a verano que siempre la acompañaba. Su risa, fresca como un amanecer. O la forma en que lo miraba a los ojos, sin miedo, entregándole el alma con cada suspiro. No podía perderla. El mundo no podía perder a una mujer que a pesar de su condición de esclava, esperaba lo mejor de los demás. Una mujer que se ganaba a los demas con risas y amabilidad. Una mujer que cuando lo miraba no veía al guerrero, ni al Gobernador, sino al hombre que había detrás, y había conseguido leerle el alma como si estuviera alli dentro con él. Eso era. Kisha era su alma. Su vida. Su aliento. No podía perderla, porque sin ella no era nada." (Kayen cabalgando de vuelta a Kargul para salvar a Kisha).

No use kidding herself. This situation with Jarrod was a slippery slope. She’d had plenty of men since Sam, attractive, well endowed, charming in many ways. Jarrod was different, and she needed to figure out why before she found herself in the middle of stupid. She had a business to think of, people who depended on her for their livelihood, even more people present and future who needed the services she offered. It wasn’t just a job, damn it, it was a mission. No one should be as out of touch with themselves as thoroughly as she had been. For as long.

Nothing is ‘wrong’ with me, Dan. What’s wrong with you? she said in the same eerily quiet voice, dark eyes fixated on Dan, as she breathed heavily.

Not much makes me feel uncomfortable about sexuality. It’s the most natural thing in the world. I don’t really get why people make such a stink. It’s like being embarrassed of hunger or thirst.

Now it’s like my whole body is suddenly in revolt. No more. Not one day more. Not one more hour. My body wants sex.

-Now the paperwork – -What if I don’t want to do the Ultimate, right away? Maybe I want to ease into this thing gently. -No you don’t. -I might. I might just want to ease into the activity, the idea of it. -it’ll be fine, said Rebecca. -you will be fine, and no regrets, honestly. Jillian took me over to the desk. -No possible regrets, said Rebecca, just sign this, she handed me a sheaf of forms. -Jesus I don’t want to buy the place, I scanned the pages – 45 pages. -just fill in page 25 through28 and sign. -Pages 25 through 28, what is this? Rebecca took the pages of forms from my hand – look its simple stuff, here we’ll read it through. Jillian looked over her shoulder at the pages -weight? -what? - Say 110, Jillian said. -Height? -5’ 8’’, Jillian again. -Hair length? -What? Why? -Long, Jillian again. -Cup size? - O come on. - say C -how about say nothing, I was getting angry -Shaved or bikini or natural? -Fuck off Rebecca ticked a box anyway – well she was at the waxing too. Why ask in fact? -Last menstrual cycle? - enough, enough, give me those papers -Yes ignore that, said Rebecca taking the pages away from my grasping hand -Tested? she said this to Jillian -Tested? What tested? What do you mean tested? -Yes, said Jillian, I forwarded a blood sample from the main island -You what! -You were sleeping. -Great now sign here, Rebecca handed me a page and a pen -Who has blood samples for a theme park? -Everyone -especially the staff, can’t have mi’lady getting STDs I took a breath -This is getting a bit weird guys are you sure? I mean, well this is a bit, weird. -We’re 100 and a million per cent sure, said Jillian - 100 million per cent, said Rebecca

Nothing stayed, nothing ever changed. But love, only love, that was the true part of the story, no matter what the beginning, middle or end.

Now you make yourself come, bitch. And I'll know if you're faking. You make that cunt clench around my cock or I swear to God I'll make you regret it

Of course, fingers are one thing. A cock is quite another.

Oh, doctor. I think I’m sick I need some penis-cilin.” I fake cough again into my hand.

Ohhhh are you coming?” he asks me. “Oh God Mallory, I can feel you doing it around my cock. I can feel you – that’s it, baby. Fuck yourself on me.

Oh lord and master. High muckety-muck.

Oh, do you understand what I mean? Have you ever felt that about the Moon? Have you ever ached with the sheer beauty of it?

Oh, Pet. How you fascinate me.

Okay, let me unwrap my present. Open those gorgeous legs. I want to devour my gift.

Okay, you’re older. Not much, really. And considering you love staying in shape and I refuse to run, we’ll probably get all old and crippled at the same time. If not, then I’ll learn to use a cane, and I’ll get to beat on your ass for a change.

Okay, first of all, I didn’t sleep with you to make amends. I slept with you because I wanted to.” He still didn’t say anything, and she pointed at him again. “And you know what? It was your own damn fault. It was those jeans you wear, and the tool belt. It was the size of your hammer!

Once I had a wild fling on an otherwise boring weekend holiday in Edinburgh, with a guy I met who turned out to be a psychiatrist. He agreed with me, after hours and hours of our naked cavorting in a hotel, that I was a sex addict; although he did stress he wouldn’t change me for the world. It turned him on that I was so sexual, and we turned a dull weekend in a grey city into something wonderful for the two of us. So, what was the problem?

Oh God, can I keep you? You don’t need batteries, do you?

One might—if one were, say, a gay sex writer—make a case that there's still a vibrant role for queer dirty words. While highly commodified mass-market DVD porn and its kinkier "specialty" cousins shows how sex looks, erotic texts are still the best mode to convey how sex—and its pesky cousin, desire—feels, and what it all means.

Only I was capable of saving her now, and that, as far as anyone could argue, may have made me worse than all the devils and the demons, but it also, more accurately, made me better than all the angels and gods.

Only on a few occasions had I ever been comfortable showing my body off, and now here I was, taking a job where Asian boobs and ass ran free.

Perhaps I was being picky, but I really didn’t think being able to spell orgasm without being spotted a vowel was asking too much.

Our lips meet and he playfully bites me.” —Sofia Herrera (Total Abandonment, Unbearable Passion, #4)

Pandora's Box could not be unopened, no one could return to Eden.

Papa, you were right. Love did come after security.

Personality is a piece of paper that folds in to conceal different sides and display others, like an Origami

On many nights I have availed myself of these very gentlemen, in the adjoining room. Each time, I wondered if you might arrive and see me, as I took my pleasure, allowing their hands to explore my body. There is no part of me that has not been kissed and enjoyed. I opened myself in welcome, encouraging my suitors to bury themselves deep and hard, to obliterate all reserve and find the heart of me.” Mademoiselle Noire - The Gentlemen's Club

People have sex, even the religious ones. Yet, when sex is transferred into words, suddenly it's dirty, vulgar, immoral, trashy. Funny huh?

People who label erotica writers as sluts/men-whores remind me of the mob that once condemned smart women as witches. Mankind has not evolved much.