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H Quotes

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All H Quotes

“He swallowed and shifted his weight a little uneasily, and then said, very quietly, his lips almost touching hers, 'Promise me you'll marry me. Not now. Someday. Because I need to know." Claier felt a flutter inside, like a bird trying to fly, and a ruch of heat that made her dizzy. And something else, something fragile as a soap bubble, and just as beautiful. Joy, in the middle of all this horror and heartbreak. 'Yes,' she whispered back. 'I promise.' And she kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, while the sun came up and bathed Morganville in one last, shining day.”

“He swallowed hard and clenched his jaw. 'You have no idea what I'm feeling now.' He looked at her lips, and the most tortured expression she'd ever seen crossed his face. When Jacks wanted something, it was with an intensity that could break worlds and build kingdoms. That was the energy pouring off him now, as if he wanted to destroy her and make her his queen all at once. And it was oh so tempting to let him. Magic crackled in the sliver of space between them. Golden and electric and alive. It felt like the end of a fairytale, when one kiss has more power than a thousand wars or a hundred spells.”

“He swallowed hard. "How do you feel?" "I feel like I want to close these drapes, turn down the lights and crawl into that bed with you and spend the night making love with you. All night." She blushed furiously. ... "All night, huh?" he asked. She nodded. He gave her a sexy grin and repeated her earlier words back to her. "Deal.”

“He swallowed heavily, and just under the surface, that broken, shattered look lurked, trying to press through his thin veneer of composure. But now she could see it wasn't a fatal break, it was the kind of break that was in her own soul too. The kind of break that stemmed from too much loss and betrayal, and you could either let the world break you or you could storm through the world and fill the cracks with the blood of those who'd hurt you until you were a semblance of whole again. Maybe not the same person, but still you, still alive, still moving forward on your own." •pg.94-95 - Nita's thoughts”

“He swallowed nervously, but in a schoolboy crush kind of way. She was so beautiful. He had been admiring her beauty for the past few days, but it never seemed right to act on it. Somehow, things felt more normal being in his home. It was like the past few days were just a crazy nightmare that had finally ended, except it didn’t. It was only on hold for a while, but it was long enough to act on his feelings. He wanted this woman badly. Everything about her was absolutely perfect!”

“He swallows, his throat bobbing. “And just so you’ve got it straight, I don’t regret last night, and I don’t regret when we were together the first time.” My face grows impossibly hotter, and I tug at the hem of my dress. “I regret I didn’t do it right when we were together the first time, but I’d do it again.” He stops, and I think he’s done, but then he grins wickedly at me. “I have every intention of doing it again.”

“He sweeps his fingers over her folds, teasing her entrance. "So nice and wet for me," he hums. "I'm going to make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Would you like that? Want me to fill you up?" Eden shivers, electricity arcing from nerve to nerve. "Y-yes. Yes, Shang, I do." He rubs the head of his cock against her clit, torturously teasing. "I don't know. What do good girls say if they want my cock?" "Please," Eden shouts. "Please, I want---" "Use your words. Come on, sweetheart. I know you can do it." "I want your cock in me," she whines. "Fuck me like you own me---" A loud moan rips itself from her throat as Shang presses into her. Splits her open. Stretched her to the fullest. It feels so good, it's almost blinding. All she can focus on is the way he thrusts in and out of her, makes her take his full length just to pull back and do it all over again. The sound of wet skin on skin drives her up the wall, but nothing makes her lose it quite like the way Shang grunts with each snap of his hips. Feral. An animal. A man on a mission. "'Like you own me,'" he growls. "You really know how to drive me fucking crazy, Eden." "Shang---" "What is it, sweetheart? Don't tell me I'm too much for you." "No, never. I want---" "What? You want what? You close already?" Eden both loves and hates the pride in his voice. "Cocky bastard," she murmurs, too dizzy to see straight. He grins. "Yep, that's me. This cocky bastard owns you and your tight little pussy. Look how well you take me, sweetheart. Like you were made for me." "Fuck---" It's a whine. It's a whimper. It's desperate and choked off and needy. He grips her waist and fucks her hard against the shower wall. "You sound so fucking hot, Eden. Come on. Take it. Fucking take it." Her back arches as she climaxes, drags her nails across his back, waves of pleasure washing over her so hard and fast, she thinks she might collapse. Shang doesn't let her, though. He holds her steady through her orgasm, still pumping his cock into her in pursuit of his own pleasure.”

“He tackled a woman's baby carriage. After the seven-month-old baby skidded across the pavement and began bawling his eyes out, Bill Brady started shouting at the toddler, 'What are you, a pussy? Walk it off! Walk it off!' After the mother shouted out her baby's age and how he wasn't able to walk yet, Bill Brady started barking in the vexed mother's face like she was a referee who had made a bad call.”

“He takes a step toward me. 'The other night-' I cut him off. 'I did it for the same reason that you did. To get it out of my system.' 'And it it?' he asks. 'Out of your system?' I look him in the face and lie. 'Yes.' If he touches me, if he even takes another step toward me, my deceit will be exposed. I don't think I can keep the longing off my face. Instead, to my relief, he gives a thin-lipped nod and departs. ... It occurs to me that maybe desire isn't something overindulging helps. Maybe it is not unlike mithridatism; maybe I took a killing dose when I should have been poisoning myself slowly, one kiss at a time.”

“He takes me by the hand to the bathroom in the hallway. He turns the knob in the tub, and a rush of water shoots from the showerhead. We both shed our clothes in silent unison. There's no need for words right now. Callum steps in the shower before I can get a proper look at him. It doesn't matter how many times I see him naked. I'm forever in awe. Under the brightness of the overhead light and the sheen of water, he is stunning. Like always. I claw at the wet muscle in front of me, and he captures my mouth in his. We're kissing so hard, so rabidly that I can hardly breathe. The only air I get is through tiny gaps between our mouths when our movements are too rough. I breathe, he breathes, and we do it over and over. He's grabbing my waist, the fleshy curve of my hips, my generously rounded backside. I give his chiseled chest one last eager grope with both hands. And then I always stroke along his always impressive length, speeding up with every groan and grunt he gives me. It's two minutes until he's done for. I rinse my hand in the stream surrounding us, but then he grips my hips and directs me to sit on the ledge at the far end of the shower. I watch him kneel down in front of me, biting my lip to suppress a groan. The water is lukewarm right now and that's a good thing. I'll need to cool off soon. He pushes his face between my legs and works his magic. Endless swirls and licks and sucks. I'm howling. It echoes against the walls of the bathroom, the only appropriate soundtrack to the filthy actions taking place in this steamy haven. Legs shaking and muscles twitching, I explode. He doesn't dare let up, digging his fingers in my thighs.”

“He takes my face in his hands, preparing to say something to me. But instead of speaking or signing, he just drags in a speechless breath as he stares silently at me. He lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me gently on the lips. Then he meets my eyes, conveying more with one look than he’s ever conveyed through any other form of our communication. “Sydney,” he says quietly. “Everything we’ve gone through to get here. Right here. It was all worth it.” There isn’t a thing I could signs or words I could say that could top the meaning in what he just spoke to me.”

“He takes my wounded hand in his. He's wearing black gloves, the leather warm even through the silk over my fingers, and black suit of clothes. Raven feathers cover the upper half of his doublet, and his boots have excessively pointed metal toes that make me conscious of how easy it will be to kick me savagely once we've begun dancing. At his brow, he wears a crown of woven metal branches, cocked slightly askew. Dark silver paint streaks over his cheekbones, and black lines run along his lashes. The left one is smeared, as though he forgot about it and wiped his eye.”

“He takes out a cigarette and offers one to me. "I try not to indulge. It's a filthy habit," I tell him. "I love that word filthy. I love the way you force it out of your mouth like it's some kind of vermin you want to get rid of." "You've had vermin in your mouth?" "You're mean in that way, you know. You don't let anyone get away with pathetic analogies.”

“He takes two steps back. Closer to the portal. I can't stop myself. "Ben," I call. And I'm not even embarrassed about how helpless my voice sounds. Don't go. "I'll come back for you." He takes another step back. "I promise." Stay. "Janelle Tenner," he says. "I will always fucking love you." And then he takes one more step back. Into the portal. And the blackness swallows him whole.”

“He talked a lot about the past, and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy. His life had been confused and disordered since then, but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it all slowly, he could find out what that thing was.”

“He talked about you,' Tiernan says. I feel like an animal after all, one that's been baited in its den. I both dread and desire him to keep talking. 'What did he say?' 'That you didn't like him.' He gives me an evaluating look. 'I thought maybe you'd had a falling-out when you were younger. But I think you do like him. You just don't want him to know it.' The truth of that hurts. I grind my sharp teeth together. 'The prince is a flatterer. And a charmer. And a wormer around things,' Tiernan informs me, entirely unnecessarily. 'That makes it harder for him to be believed when he has something sincere to say. But no one would ever accuse me of being a flatterer...”

“He talked to her endlessly about his love of horizontals: how they, the great levels of sky and land in Lincolnshire, meant to him the eternality of the will, just as the bowed Norman arches of the church, repeating themselves, meant the dogged leaping forward of the persistent human soul, on and on, nobody knows where; in contradiction to the perpendicular lines and to the Gothic arch, which, he said, leapt up at heaven and touched the ecstasy and lost itself in the divine.”