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Zack W. Van

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“He dared to reach out, finally took the prize he'd been longing to claim. He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, then cupped her chin to tilt her face up. For a moment, she let him hold her so close that her hot breath brushed his face, then with a start she stumbled away. "N-no. You shouldn't do that. I'm engaged to your brother." Her lips formed the words of protest, but her eyes told a different story. She liked his touch, liked his closeness. Deep inside, in places she'd been taught to ignore, she wanted him. A surge of triumph and rekindled desire caught Dominic off guard. He smiled as he edged closer again, thoroughly enjoying the hunt in a way he hadn't for a long time. "A married man can't be engaged, Kat." That made her turn and she steadied herself on the terrace wall when she realized how close he was. But she didn't step away. "You shouldn't call me that." Her voice trembled like her hands. "Why? I like it. It fits you." He edged even closer and touched her face a second time. This time she leaned into his palm with a small, almost imperceptible whimper. "But I promise I'll only call you Kat when we're alone. When we're in bed." Her lips parted with surprise. "We won't ever share a bed," she murmured, but the protest was weak, indeed. "No?" he whispered. With a slow dip of his head, Dominic captured her lips. Though she didn't pull back, she seemed frozen with shock and didn't respond immediately either. But that was just part of the challenge. Gently, Dominic nibbled her lower lip, tasting the sweet honey of her skin until she opened her mouth to him with a gasp. He took the access she granted and tasted her. He continued to be gentle, exploring rather than plundering. There would be time to ravage and pillage later. Finally, with a moan that came from deep within her, Katherine slid her hands up to clutch his arms and tentatively returned his kiss. The reaction sent a rush of longing through him that it nearly unmanned him. The control he'd been so carefully practicing suddenly fled.”

DesirePassionate KissKatherine And Dominic
Book:Scandalous
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“We cannot recall our dreams, they cannot come back to us. If a dream comes – but what sort of coming is a dream's? Through what night does it make its way? If it comes to us, it does so only by way of forgetfulness, a forgetfulness which is not only censorship or simply repression. We dream without memory, in such a way that the dream of any particular night is no doubt a fragment of a response to an immemorial dying, barred by desire’s repetitiousness. There is no stop, there is no interval between dreaming and waking. In this sense, it is possible to say: never, dreamer, can you awake (nor, for that matter, are you able to be addressed thus, summoned). The dream is without end, waking is without beginning; neither one nor the other ever reaches itself. Only dialectical language relates them to each other in view of a truth.”

DreamDeathDesireDyingMemoryRepetitionForgetfulnessBlanchot
Author:Maurice Blanchot
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“I'll be honest with you, the number one reason for all of my past break ups was too much complacency. I'm not perfect, but I just know I'm not cut out for mediocrity in any shape or form. Moreover, I think this has a lot to do with my life purpose as well. I believe I was not brought into this world to turn complacent women into passionate women, but rather to turn passionate women into goddesses.”

DesireRelationshipsPassionateSensualityMediocrityGoddessComplacencyLive With PassionLife Purpose QuotesFeminine Woman
Author:Lebo Grand
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“Niru, you're welcome to stay if you want, Ms. McConnell says to me without looking up from her desk. Without students in the classroom she is much smaller and more feminine. I stare at her legs visible beneath her desk and at the way her blonde hair falls about her face as she reads the New Yorker. Porn makes it look so easy, so casual, so routine. Older women are supposed to crave fresh young meat, to lick their pen tops absentmindedly while thinking about us, to squeeze their legs together in a good faith effort to keep from corrupting the younger generations. And I am supposed to stumble forward both confused and uncontrolled, pulled by my relentless desire like light towards a black hole. Except I am unmoved. I imagine Ms. McConnell naked, perched at the edge of her desk, legs crossed waiting for me to cross the room and give her what she needs. That's how they always say it, that they will take what they want, get what they need, that hardcore sex is good punishment for bad behavior. I wonder if it would set the record straight for me. It's nice outside, Ms. McConnell says, you should enjoy the day. Her stare makes me feel like she can read my thoughts and I am suddenly embarrassed.”

DesireSexualityDaydreaming
Book:Speak No Evil
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