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Quote by Stephanie Laurens

“Between them, she undid the buttons holding the placket of his breeches closed; her small hand slid beneath the fabric, and found him. He sucked in breath at that first innocent touch; his control quaked as her grip firmed, then her fingers eased and she stroked, and he felt like growling. Releasing her waist, with a quick tug he raised her skirts and reached beneath. Found the soft flesh between her thighs and caressed, then lightly probed. She shuddered, caught her breath, then her fingers trailed tantalizingly down his length. Closing her hand about his turgid flesh, she gently tugged. Her meaning couldn't have been clearer. And this time he had no ability, no thought in his head, to deny her. Just a small adjustment of her body over his and he could draw her down and sheath his erection in her slick softness; despite the potent attraction, he knew that this time it couldn't be that way. Not for her. Not the first time. He was too large, too engorged, for her to take him easily that way; she might balk, and find it too difficult to go on... Deftly he turned her and tumbled her down to the cushions. She went readily, reassured when he moved with her, willingly surrendering to the pull of one small hand gripping his shoulder. He settled between her thighs, spread wide on either side of his hips, the fingers of one hand still buried within her sheath, his other hand cradling her head, keeping her immersed in their kiss.”

Quote by Stephanie Laurens

Work

The Taste of Innocence

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Author

Stephanie Laurens
Stephanie Laurens

Stephanie Laurens, born on August 14, 1953, is a British historical fiction author. Her works are set in 18th-century England and depict love, adventure, and the life of the aristocracy of that era. Laurens' novels have been highly popular with readers and have won numerous literary awards. more

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“Beneath her skirts, she guided his erection to her entrance; drawing his fingers from her sheath, so hot and wet and ready for him, he caught her hand, twined her fingers with his, and drew them away. And sank slowly, carefully, into her scalding heat. Her breath hitched. She tensed, then through the kiss caught her breath and fought to relax, to reverse the instinctive tightening. Her fingers clutched his. He pressed in, steady, sure, not too fast yet not too slow that she had time to think too much. Then he reached the barrier that was her maidenhood; with one powerful thrust he breached it, with the movement forging deep into her body. She cried out, the sound muffled between their lips, and tensed. He held still, giving her time to adjust. Giving himself time to still his whirling senses. To assimilate the feel of scalding velvet gripping him so tightly. To grit his teeth and hold against the powerful, all but overwhelming urge to ride her, hard and fast. As some part of him had wanted to do for a very long time.”

“With a soft, evocative sigh she eased, her body giving, accepting. Instinctively she contracted the muscles of her stretched sheath, felt him there, and shivered. Gritting his teeth against the inevitable effect of that evocative caress, he drew back just a little, then forged in again, filling her even more completely. Her breath left her and she clutched, both with her hands and her body. He eased back again, filled her anew; her breasts swelled as she breathed in, then she followed his rhythm. He set the pace, slow, steady, only gradually increasing as he sensed her response, as desire rose, fresh and urgent, and the fires of passion reclaimed them, and the conflagration built. And it was more, so much more, than the act had ever been. Reaching deeper, further, into some part of him he hadn't known could be touched, the intimate surrender and the possession sank to his bones. Her surrender to him, and his to her; his possession of her, and hers of him. This wasn't any simple joining, the usual trading of pleasure, but one intricate and involved, layered with meaning, coiled and twined with feelings and emotions he'd never before encountered, not in this arena. Not between the woman who lay beneath him, so gladly and wantonly accepting him into her body, and him.”

“Sarah rode with him and felt her body rejoice, felt her senses whirl and sing with pleasure. She was exquisitely conscious, to her fingernails aware of the shattering intimacy of their joining. Eyes closed, hearing suspended, her world condensed just to him and her, and another world came alive, a landscape filled with feeling, with heat and longing, with sensation and power and the promise of glory. He moved within her and she rode out each thrust, met and matched him, welcomed and reluctantly released him again. Pleasure and delight bloomed, welled, then spilled through her. The momentary pain had faded so fast it was already a dim memory, overwhelmed by the solid and immediate reality of him hard and strong and so elementally male, joining so deeply and inexorably with her. His fingers slid from hers, sliding down and around to one globe of her bottom. He tilted her hips, and she gasped as the altered position let him penetrate her more deeply still. The reined power behind each deliberate thrust sent a thrill arcing through her. A primitive sense of danger, the recognition of vulnerability; he was so much stronger than she, his body so much harder, so much more powerful than hers. Yet he was careful. The realization slid through her, but she couldn't focus enough to think, then the heat of their passion rose another degree and claimed her. Sent fire and a hungry, ravenous need sliding through her veins, making her writhe, making her gasp. It inexorably branded desire deep into her flesh, marking and searing, until she burned. Until her body was aflame, until the flames coalesced and concentrated, burning deeper and hotter until she sobbed and clung and desperately urged him on, and he rode her faster, harder, deeper. Until with a rush, all heat and yearning, she found herself clinging to that final, dizzying peak. Felt him thrust one last time and shatter her, felt the furnace within her that he'd stoked and fed rupture, felt glory pour forth and sear her veins. And rush through her. She spiraled through a void, cushioned in heated bliss, her mind disconnected. Dimly, she heard him groan, long-drawn and guttural, was distantly aware that, joined deeply with her, he went rigid in her arms. She felt, from far away, the warmth of his seed spill inside her. Buoyed by glory, cocooned in golden rapture, she smiled.”

“Having weathered the storm once, she embraced it and gloried in it, thrilled to be wanted with such unwavering intent, with such concerted focus, with such... adoration. Despite the passion driving him, despite the desire that had hardened his body, that infused every caress with a driven edge, behind all was a care that never wavered. A care that had him holding back, his breathing as ragged as hers, his kiss every bit as desperate, until his clever fingers sent her wits spinning from this world and submerged her senses in indescribable pleasure. Only then did he shift, pin her beneath him, and thrust into her. She gasped, arched beneath him, then moaned as he took advantage of her instinctive invitation and drove even deeper into her very willing body. She clamped around him and he paused, eyes closed, every muscle clenched and tight, on the cusp of quivering, then he drew in a labored breath, withdrew and thrust anew, and she lost touch with the world. And once again all she knew was the heat and the flames and the steady, relentless possession. The giddy pleasure and delight, and beneath and through it all threaded the elusive evidence of his loving. It was there in the catch of his breath when she shifted, rose beneath him and moved against him, letting the fascinatingly crinkly hair on his chest abrade her excruciatingly sensitive nipples. There in the way he slowed, metaphorically gripped her hand and drew her back from the brink so that she didn't rush ahead and end the pleasure all too soon, but instead caught her sensual breath and joined agin with him in that primitive and evocative dance. More all-consuming, all-absorbing. More intimate. Love was there in the guttural whispers of encouragement he fed her when she once more started that inexorable climb, when passion roared and she suddenly found it upon her, near and so intense. There in the way in which he held her, cradled her, all the while moving so relentlessly within her, stoking the flames, sending her senses careening. There in the moment when ecstasy claimed her and he held her close, and held still, muscles quivering with restraint, prolonging the moment until she wept with simple joy. There in the final helpless moment when he lost himself in her.”

“He held her down in the cushioning billows of the bed, kissed her, fondled and provocatively caressed until she arched, with her body begged; breaking from the kiss, he trailed hot, wet, openmouthed kisses down the taut line of her throat, over the creamy upper swell of her breast, and gave her the first course of what she'd asked for. He feasted on her breasts without quarter, licked, suckled, and laved as she writhed and gasped beneath him, as her hands gripped and tightened on his skull as he drew every last gasp and moan he could from her, then moved on. Over her midriff, down over her waist, pausing to pay homage to the sensitive indentation of her navel, then he shifted still lower. Trapping one of her long legs beneath him, lifting and draping the other over his shoulder, he held it there, held her steady as he pressed an ardent kiss to the curls shielding her mons. He heard her breath hitch, felt her body tremble, then tense and coil. Glancing at her face, he caught a glimpse of intense cornflower blue burning beneath her heavy lids, saw her lips slick and swollen from his kisses, parted in shocked disbelief. Deliberately he slid lower, bent and set his lips to the slick, swollen flesh between her thighs. She jerked, moaned. He licked and she screamed. She reached for him, but could only touch his head. Her fingers twined in his hair, tightened; she tensed to tug, but he licked again, then slowly, expertly probed, and she didn't move. Panting, eyes shut, she waited. Inwardly smug, he settled to worship her in that way, too, to taste her, to fill his senses with her, and hers with him. She let him have his way, let him taste her as he wished, let him try her with his tongue and drive her mindless. He asked, and she surrendered; he took, and she gave. In return, he pleasured her with unwavering devotion until she sobbed and cried out his name. Rising, he rolled her firmly onto her back, trailed kisses like fire up her belly and breasts as he loomed over her, spreading her thighs wide, settling between. He held himself over her, arms braced as he kissed her, tasted her desperation on her lips. Then with one, single powerful thrust he joined them. She closed about him like a glove, and he gasped; like the goddess he'd named her she welcomed her servant into her temple and embraced him. He moved, and she moved with him, fluidly meeting him as they gave themselves up to the now familiar dance. His thoughts fractured, ripped from him as a whirlpool of sensation rose up, drenched, then drowned him.”

“His expression was graven, a mask of urgent desire. "Wrap your legs around me." She could barely make out the gravelly command; it took an instant to register that his palms had slid beneath her bottom, supporting her weight, then to make her muscles obey her enough to obey him. Immediately her thighs clamped about him, he lowered her hips, and she realized- felt the broad head of his erection nudge against her entrance, then he pressed in, and drew her down. As he thrust upward. Head falling back, she gasped as he impaled her, as the sensation of him riding hard and high into her body engulfed her senses, and dragged them down. Into a whirlpool of seething desire, of passion so hot it scorched, of a need so fiery it melted her bones. He lifted her, and brought her down again, thrusting upward as he did, and every nerve she possessed shook, shuddered. With a need he understood; legs braced, he held her in his arms before the fireplace, the heat from the flames dancing over her flushed skin as he gripped her bottom and held her to him, held her body against him and filled her again and again.”

“For long moments, head back, slowly riding him, she let sensation rule, let her senses expand and fill her mind. All but overwhelmed by sensual delight, by an awareness of her body and its potential for pleasure more extensive and more compelling than ever before, she slowed. He growled, a guttural sound that sparked a completely different awareness. An instant later, even before she could lift her lids, he rolled, taking her with him, trapping them both in a welter of covers. Cushioned in the billows of the bed, he held her beneath him and thrust- hard, deep. With a cry, she arched; as he thrust again, even deeper, she desperately caught her breath, then wrapped her arms about him, lifted her legs and gripped his flanks, and raked her nails across his back as she joined him in frantic urgency as he rode her. Hard, fast, desperate for fulfillment, willing to surrender all just to reach that peak. And then they were there, panting, wanting, reaching, stretching for the glory. It broke upon them, swept them up, shattered them, then on a gust of deep, mindless pleasure, surged through them and left them wrecked. Wrecked with pleasure. Smiling sillily, dizzy with delight, softly laughing, they slumped in each other's arms, and let the moment cradle them.”

“Her legs splayed wide as he dropped her onto the mattress, his big body settling between them, and she cried out as he slid back inside her, his hardness stretching her lusciously. He began to pump in a slow, steady motion that wouldn't alter no matter how she writhed and begged him to go harder, faster, deeper. His mouth went to her breast, sucking at a nipple, tugging sweetly in time to his thrusting. Her body contracted every time he pushed inward, clasping him hungrily, sensation building until a powerful climax began, wringing every inch of her body with raw force. She fell silent, her hips locked in a steep arch against his weight. Still the measured rhythm went on, extracting every last flicker of sensation. He was tireless, unhurried, using himself to satisfy her. At last Phoebe collapsed down on the bed, shivering uncontrollably. West plunged into her... once, twice, thrice... and pulled out to crush the thick wet rod of his sex against her stomach. He buried a savage growl in the bedclothes and clutched the mattress on either side of her so hard she thought he might gouge holes in it. As she felt the hot spill of his release, an unfamiliar croon came from her throat, a sound of primal satisfaction at having pleased her mate.”

“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.”

“He kissed her panting mouth, loving the damp, satiny insides of her lips, the little velvety tongue lapping at his. Every time he drew his cock partially out, her muscles worked frantically to close on him, tug him back inside. The delight was so intense, he was half afraid his essence was leaking from him, seeping into that lively, luscious channel. She was coming now, tightening, pulsing, milking his hard-swollen flesh, while he fought to keep every movement steady and controlled, to make it good for her. The weight of his bollocks drew up tight and heavy, his body primed for release. He held on, stroking hard and deep, making her ride the movement until she had stopped spasming.”