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Quote by Lisa Kleypas

“He played with her, flicking and stroking, his fingers sinking into her wet, gripping depths. It aroused him to see how hard she was trying to be quiet and couldn't manage it, strangled moans and gasps slipping out. After unbuttoning his trousers and freeing his erection, West braced Phoebe up against the wall and entered her. She let out a cry of surprise at finding herself mounted on his hips, her legs dangling helplessly. Keeping her supported, he began to thrust, nudging against the bud of her sex with every upward plunge. "Is this good?" he asked gruffly, even though he could feel her throbbing response. "Yes." "Too deep?" "No. No. Keep doing that." She clutched at his shoulders, her pleasure rising rapidly toward climax.”

Quote by Lisa Kleypas

Book:Devil's Daughter
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Devil's Daughter

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Lisa Kleypas
Lisa Kleypas

Lisa Kleypas, born in 1964, is a renowned American romance novel author. Her works are known for their delicate emotional descriptions and captivating storylines, which have won the hearts of numerous readers. more

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“Lani couldn't respond. She was too busy reveling in just how amazing they felt, joined. She'd thought maybe it was the delirium of the first time that had her thinking rosy thoughts. Well, and the second time. And the third. "How is it even better this time? How?" she panted, moving on top of him. She squealed an instant later when she found herself neatly on her back once again. He pushed deeper, and growled a little. "Am I hurtin' you?" "No. Don't stop," she panted, then growled a little herself as he thrust into her, again and again. She knew now, when he was fully beyond controlling himself, bits and pieces of his childhood accent resurfaced. For whatever reason, that was just hot as hell to her. It was earthy, primal. "Oh," she said, then, "Oh!" when he pulled her thighs up higher along his waist, tilting her so she was just at the right angle to- "How do you- do that?" she managed. That was it as the crescendo of sensation washed up and over, taking her on a hard, fast ride in to shore.”

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“Through the tempest of their passions, through the wild turbulent ride, Sarah was conscious only of sensation. It buffeted her, overwhelmed her mind, etched itself on her awareness. So that despite the heat and the delirious pleasure of his body moving over hers, despite the powerful thrusts that physically rocked her, despite the impossible clamoring urgency that had her tilting her hips to take him yet more deeply, that had her scoring his back urging him desperately to ride her yet more forcefully, the one element that shone through the raging veil was his hunger for her. It was every bit as deep and powerful and demanding as her hunger for him. No- more. For him, in him, that hunger was so potent, so deeply ingrained that she had no doubt he would give every last gasp to sate it- to consummate it, to give it life, here with her in their bed. It drove him, and controlled him, and drew her into the maelstrom, too, until she was as passionate as he in finding the way to appease it, to sate it, to discover the way into its temple and sacrifice herself at its altar. And at the last, in the final mind-shattering moment when she clung by her fingernails over the sensual void, the veils ripped apart and she saw that hungry power clearly- saw, felt, with her own senses knew what it was. Unquestionably, beyond doubt. Then he thrust one last time and with a cry she shattered; with a sob she lost her grip on reality and fell. Weightless for that moment, that briefest of journeys, falling from heavenly pleasure into satiation's soothing sea.”

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“Renaissance artists, inspired by Greek mythological themes, created frighteningly realistic portrayals of decapitated women with snakes for hair. The elegantly crafted sculpture by Benvenuto Cellini of a youthful Perseus holding Medusa's head aloft while he stands on her decapitated body was erected in the center of Florence in the mid-16th century. This popular theme was emblematic of the Inquisitional murders of women taking place in many areas of Europe during that time, considered necessary to protect civil society from the dangers of uncontrolled female powers. Later, during the 18th-19th centuries, Romantic artists, poets, and Decadents recast Medusa as a beautiful victim, not a monster. In their view, She represented the ecstatic discord between pain and pleasure, beauty and horror, and divinely forbidden sexuality.”

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Book:Re-visioning Medusa: from Monster to Divine Wisdom
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“In ancient times, the Gorgon Medusa lived on the far side of Oceanus in the land of Night. She was an awesome dragonlike creature with bronze claws, great golden wings, and fierce eyes that turned her beholder to stone. At one time she had been a beautiful young woman who filled the world with joy, not death, but in a moment of foolish pride she had compared herself to Athena. Such arrogance enraged the noble goddess, and in revenge she turned Medusa's lush hair into a tangle of vile, hissing snakes. From that moment on, Medusa's stare brought the stillness of death to anyone who dared look into her eyes. Meanwhile Polydectes, King of Seriphos, wanted to destroy Perseus, so he sent him off to bring back Medusa's head, knowing that her gaze would kill the young hero. But Athena heard the king's command. Still angry with Medusa, she gave Perseus her bronze shield to defend himself when he attacked the Gorgon. Holding the shield as a mirror, Perseus saw only Medusa's reflection, and her deadly stare did not harm him. He cut off her head and put it into a cloth bag, then flew away with the aid of a pair of winged sandals given to him by Hermes. As Perseus soared over the African desert, blood seeped through the bag and fell to the hot sands below. As each drop hit the scorching ground, it turned to steam, and the rising vapors transformed into three dangerously beautiful nymphs.”

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“A tilting sea and thundering winds tossed the carved chest and filled Danaë with terror; she cried and placed her arm lovingly around Perseus saying: 'My child, I suffer and yet your heart is calm; you sleep profoundly in the blue dark of night and shine in our gloomy bronze-ribbed boat. Don't think of the heaving saltwave that seeps in through airholes and drenches your hair, nor of the clamoring gale; but lying in our seaviolet blanket keep your lovely body close to mine. If you knew the horror of our plight, your gentle ears would hear my words. But sleep, my son, and let the ocean sleep and our great troubles end. I ask you, father Zeus, rescue us from our fate; and should my words seem too severe, I beg you please remember where we are, and forgive my prayer.”

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