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Quote by Sarah J. Maas

“Greedy,' he murmured, his lips hovering over my neck. 'First you terrorise me with your cold hands, now you want... what is it you want, Feyre?' ... Rhysand's teeth scraped against my neck in a lazy caress. 'What is it you want, Feyre?' He nipped at my earlobe. I cried out a little, arching fully against him, as if I could get that hand to slip exactly where I wanted it. I knew what he wanted me to say. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of it. Not yet. So I said, 'I want a distraction.' It was breathless. 'I want- fun.' His body again tensed behind mine. And I wondered if he somehow didn't see it for the lie it was; if he thought... if he thought that was all I indeed wanted. But his hands resumed their roaming. 'Then allow me the pleasure of distracting you.”

Quote by Sarah J. Maas

Work

A Court of Mist and Fury

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Author

Sarah J. Maas
Sarah J. Maas

Sarah J. Maas is an American author known for her fantasy novels. Her works are celebrated for their rich imagination, complex characters, and gripping plots. Born on March 5, 1986, Maas has developed a passion for writing from a young age and has become a successful author in her own right. more

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“The fuck is this shit?" it says. "Can you bloody believe this shit?" "No, honey," I say. "This is absolutely ridiculous." "Aren't you pissed the fuck off?" "Someone really should do something about this." "Why don't we bloody do something about it?" "Yeah, why don't we?" I say. "But how." "Well, we find whatever prick is in charge and give the fucker a piece of our minds, of course."”

“His hand beneath mine was warm, large enough where mine didn't cover nearly all of it, his skin soft and his bones hard ridges that tensed at the touch of my skin. What are you doing? I thought furiously at it. My lips opened to say sorry, and I went to pull my hand away, but before I could do either of those things, his hand flipped over, our palms meeting as he threaded his fingers through mine. It was like when I was a freshman in high school and held a boy's hand for the very first time. The touch of his skin on mine made me tingle all the way up my arm, and the way he squeezed my hand, reassuringly but also firmly, as if to say, this is the way I'd squeeze around your nipple or cup your ass to press you up against me.”

“Where are you going?” He looked over his shoulder at me. “If I stay, you won’t get any sleep.” “Stay,” I said. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.” Lie—such an outright lie. He gave me a half smile that told me he knew it, too, but nestled down, tugging me into his arms. I wrapped an arm around his waist and rested my head in the hollow of his shoulder. He idly stroked my hair. I didn’t want to sleep—didn’t want to lose a minute with him—but an immense exhaustion was pulling me away from consciousness, until all I knew was the touch of his fingers in my hair and the sounds of his breathing.”