Best 565 quotes in «erotica quotes» category

It was everything I hoped it would be. I want you to know I would have waited another sixteen years to be able to feel that with you again.

It was the impatience of the way he tore my panties from my body, that really turned me on: I was all he could think of, as his lust got the better of him. I glanced back, and saw the underwear torn and discarded, a little strip of thin black material on the floor, and thought, Yes, this is the kind of impatient sex I’m looking for. The way they looked so small, and cruelly forgotten, was a beautiful symbol of how much we both needed to satisfy our lusts.

It would appear that a lot of people out there are hiding their own dark, socially unacceptable sexual fantasies behind a facade of fake indignant outrage when someone else gets caught with their pants down.

I've always agreed with the IRS definition of single tho. If you aren't married...you're single. Now what you choose to do while you're single is your business. Just make sure all parties involved are on the same page.

I’ve told you before, ma chérie, love is not about submission. It is the willingness to give of yourself. That is a great power and gift, if you allow yourself to wield it.

I've told you so many times how much I love you. Please remember that every single day for the rest of your life. You are my everything, you hold my heart and carry my soul. You made my life better. My only regret was not meeting you sooner, so we could have had more time together in this life. - Avery Adams

I’ve wanted to do that since you saved me.” -Lockland

I’ve wanted you since the moment you first turned up here four months ago,” he whispered, “I have to have you.

I wanted to reach out and stroke her, to be gentle and tender towards her. Take care of her.

I wanted to, um, apologize for earlier. I can't believe I did that. I didn't think it could be real and—” “Didn’t think what could be real?” …Your penguin.

I want that little blonde bitch in the lobby to hear me screaming your name.

I want to discover every hidden secret of your body and a thousand ways to make you scream my name.

I want to glide in a world of beauty,’ I said. ‘To be carried away into a world of luxurious things.

I want to take you under the moonlight.

I want to mark him permanently, brand him as mine. I grab my ankles to keep from grabbing him, digging my short, blunt nails into my flesh, the pain heightening my pleasure.

I want to spank you, but also want to know you want it. I need to hear it sweetheart, tell me you deserve it…

I want you to fuck me, Chris,’ I said, lustfully whispering the words into his ear as he planted kisses on my neck. His lips were wild and yearning, eagerly devouring me.

I warned you I like to play games.

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.

I was going to make him forget, too. He would forget every woman who came before me, every moment that I wasn’t a part of, every dream he had that didn’t include me. Starting now.

I was in a copse of pine trees, and the pine was overpowering my scent. The pheromones of the big cat mingled with the pine and I spun around. I was smelling and looking for the flash of white, but I couldn’t see it. I grew angry and I pawed at the earth. The aroma of the soil cleansed my nose as I leaned down and sniffed deeply. I slowly closed and opened my eyes. As I looked ahead I saw something. There, further on, I had another glimpse of the large white cat. She was stopped and her hindquarters were in the air. I stared, trying to figure out what she was doing. Her forepaws and head were on the ground, but her hind was wiggling. She was next to a tree, marking it, so I slowly paced in a zigzag pattern as I walked close to her. I was being cautious because poachers had been known to employ shifters to entice real animals in the wild. She turned her head and growled at me. I took it as an invite to come closer. I ran up to her and started circling. She was an albino panther as I thought. I paced closer, breathing deep. I was in the middle of Ohio, outside of a lost cougar and a few bobcats there were no big cats here, at least not counting lycanthropes, and this creature didn’t smell like one of those. Her rump almost wagged in anticipation, and I felt my tiger body respond. I circled her, taking a swipe in her direction to see if she was going to respond negatively to me. The pink eyes followed me and she growled. I walked up to her, sniffed her face and neckline. I didn’t smell any other male on her, and I walked to her raised rump. Burying my nose in her groin I smelled deeper, and she shifted her body. I felt it before I could see it. She was shifting, changing from albino panther to human. I sat on my hindquarters as I watched. Her white fur seemed to melt from her, sliding upwards, starting with her back legs. The flesh and fur on her feet slid forward, leaving human feet and calves. It was fully fleshed, unlike some lycanthrope changes when they’re younger. The calves of her legs appeared, and slowly slid up. The panther flesh was sliding forward, slowly and methodically. Across her ass and groin, now lower back and stomach. The pheromones I smelled earlier were coming from her, the human form. I stood and started pacing behind her, and her panther head shook in a very human gesture. I stopped, fighting the desire to lean forward and lick her wetness with my large tongue. The flesh was sliding forward and as her teats turned into breasts, I growled in need. Next were her shoulders and arms, then her head and hands. As the transformation ended, there was a pile of fur and flesh lying in front of her. Her human form was beautiful; a full figured woman with long white hair, that was perfectly natural. She looked to be in her early forties, but didn’t have a line on her face that she didn’t want. In the corners of her eyes were small, but beautiful, crow’s feet, laugh lines surrounded her mouth. She laid out with her former form under her, laying on it, propped up by her elbows. She smiled with the confidence of someone who was used to being in charge. Her long hair flowed around her shoulders, framing her body. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t figure out who.

I was not crying - eyes water. I think we all know I'm a badass and I don't cry. - Caleb

Listen, I'm bossy. I can't help it. It's who I am and what I do. I'm pushy and I like to take over. But I'm going to work really hard not to do so much and your going to try and accept me the way I am. Flaws and all. Because I'm good in bed and I can carry heavy things and reach all the high shelves.

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

Longing to feel his hot flesh against mine, I roughly remove his jacket and start unbuttoning his shirt. I manage to successfully unbutton two, but my patience wanes, and I roughly pull open Jacob's shirt, sending the remaining buttons scattering across the room.

Look Drav, I know he looks like daddy, and sounds like daddy, and has daddy’s name, but you and I both saw daddy leave this world. So how could that man possibly be him?” I asked hoping that my son would be able to shed some light on what was going on.

Look, at those foolish men in my day we did it the proper way!” he started to say as if he was looking deep within his memory.

Look at the huge success of Fifty Shades of Grey. The girl in the book lets a rich guy beat her and ritually rape her, and she likes it! She finds it erotic! But imagine if Christian Grey wasn't a billionaire. Imagine if he lived in a dirty old trailer down by the river. Then that story wouldn't be a sexy romance novel, but an episode of CSI.

Love. Yes. That’s what I feel for you. Your smile makes me happy and your pain makes me hurt with you. Your unhappiness makes me unhappy. Your body makes me ache and you make me hard with need to be inside you. You are always on my mind and when I am not with you, I want you with me.

Lord. How many antidepressants can one person take? However much it is, I'm going to need the maximum dose if I make it out of this alive. -Dani Springman.

Love is displacement of life and moments. People ask in gaping bewilderment, "am I in love? is this love? Is it real love?" No one has to ask, "Have I been fucked?

Lust is the purest emotion. If Love is the effect, then lust is the cause. Love might be intangible but lust is omnipreseent, evergrowing. Evergrowing. Always! Forever!!

Make me cum again,” I said as I reached one hand behind me to pull his tie towards me. He dove into me with persistent force each time with his hips pushing into me, jiggling my ass.

MacKensie, much as men don't like to share this fact, we rarely die from not getting off.

Make no mistake, I will romance you, Kane Dalton, just not now. Right now I need to fuck you.Fuck you hard, and soft, and then do it all over again." Avery ran his nose over Kane's ear and back into his hair, breathing him in as if Kane were his only life source. "Take off my jeans. Touch me. I need to feel your hands on me. I crave your touch. Please.

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!

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

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 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.

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