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H Quotes

Browse famous quotes beginning with H. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.

All H Quotes

“Her body was a prison, her mind was a prison. Her memories were a prison. The people she loved. She couldn't get away from the hurt of them. She could leave Eric, walk out of her apartment, walk forever if she liked, but she couldn't escape what really hurt. Tonight even the sky felt like a prison.”

“Her boy—this child she raised on her own, in whom she placed her purest faith, to whom she read on countless evenings books he loved, which she found dull, for whom she baked special birthday cakes in the shapes of superheroes, and with whom she whooped and hollered around the backyard while pointing cowboy sticks against darkening skies—was no longer her ally. Bang, bang.”

“Her breasts were full and high, her hips curvy, and the triangle of curly strawberry blond hair at the juncture of her thighs was as visible as her dusky rose nipples. Conall heard Payton move away, but didn't take his eyes off Claray. She was a sight to make a man's mouth water and his cock spring up, ready for action, and he was experiencing both right then. He wanted to taste those dusky nipples rather than just touch them, and he wanted to bury his face between her legs and sample her sweetness.”

“Her breath, a perfume laced with midnight’s bloom, Her skin, a canvas brushed with lunar gloom. She lies, a mountain range of flesh and might, And I, a pilgrim, kneel to kiss her light. Her neck, a column where the ancients wrote, I trace with tongue, each vein, each whispered note.”

“Her breath caught as a memory hit her like a tidal wave: ten-year-old Jasmine, curled up with a book at her father's feet while he worked through the piles of parchment in the box, full of official correspondence from his ministers and satraps, the governors who ruled neighboring provinces in the sultan's name. "One day, Jasmine azizam, this will be your job too," he had said, peering down at her with a serious expression. "It's the most important work a mortal could ever do: taking care of an entire kingdom and its people. Is that something you can see yourself doing one day? Ruling just like your Baba?" "I only have to do it if you don't have a son." Jasmine had shrugged off the question with all the carefree obliviousness of a child. An inscrutable expression had come over her father then. He opened his mouth to say something and stopped, as if thinking better of it. And then he reached down to squeeze her shoulder. "There will be no son, Jasmine," he had said. "You are the one.”

“Her breath caught in her chest and she couldn't seem to form words. She was too busy reveling in the reality that she was in the exact place she'd dreamed of being, for so long. It was light years better than anything she'd ever fantasized it would be. His hands were big, but gentle. His words soothed, but there was an edge to his voice that incited as well. And he was bigger somehow, more imposing, more densely muscled than she'd imagined him to be. She'd thought of him as the tall, lanky golden boy, all sunny good looks and breezy charisma. But, looking up at him from where she was, tucked in the shelter of his body, she could see the street in him. She'd had a hard time imagining that such a good-natured charmer could have been forged from the rough and tumble life he'd described. But she believed it now. There was a hard edge to his jaw, and the muscles in his shoulders bunched tightly as he skimmed his fingers into her hair. He exuded heat, and she swore she could feel the thudding beat of his heart, even with the bedspread bunched between them. "What are you thinking?" He brought his fingertips back to her cheeks, then ran them along her bottom lip. She moaned softly at the contact, and recalled, quite vividly, the way he'd leaped the counter and taken her in that claiming, branding kiss. Yes, there was a lot more rough and tumble to Baxter Dunne than she'd ever imagined. And now all that rough and tumble was sprawled naked in her bed, focusing a formidable level attention on her. "You've nothing to be afraid, of, luv," he said, as if reading her mind. And maybe he had. Or maybe there was something of what she was feeling in her eyes. She felt like she was tucked up against a jungle cat, muscles coiled and bunched... just waiting, tail flicking, all languid and relaxed to the casual eye, all poised for just the right moment to pounce.”

“Her breath caught. With his face silhouetted against the dark, she knew why he was so curiously familiar. "You?" she said as a cold knot of fear tightened in her stomach. "You followed me that night when I walked home from Planet Bang." He smiled, his eyes fervent. "Yes," he stated simply. "I've always been in the dark with you." He pulled her closer to him. His head leaned down and he spoke against her cheek. Soft lips grazed her skin. "I can feel your heart racing. You shouldn't be afraid of me." His breath caressed her.”

“Her breath hitched when he slid a thick finger into her wet heat. Slow. Firm. Agonizingly delicious. "You're so wet," he murmured. "It really did turn you on." "You turn me on." She arched against him, pleasure rippling through her core. Sam pushed another finger inside, angling to brush against her sweet spot. "I thought you needed me, like right now," she panted as he palmed her breast through her clothes. "I need to give you pleasure first." His heated gaze trapped her, made her insides tighten. "So you're a gentleman sex beast." She wrapped her arms around his neck, ran her fingers through the softness of his hair. His shoulders were so broad, his neck corded with muscle. But unlike Harman's steroid-enhanced physique, Sam's perfect body was real. "I don't feel like a gentleman." His voice was deeper than normal, thick and hoarse. He teased her nipple to a peak through her clothes. "The things I want to do to you right now are as far from gentlemanly as you can get.”

“Her breath snagged in her throat, her fingers faltering on her own aching flesh. She was shamefully wet. Shamefully needful. “Do you do this very often, Adrian?” “Phone sex?” “Touching yourself.” “Not too often.” “I guess you wouldn’t need to.” Embarrassment stung her cheeks. “Everyone needs to, Billie.” “But in your business—well, if you wanted, you could probably have—you know, with your clients, at least three orgasms a day.” “But I don’t.” “Even still, the last time you had to touch yourself, just for sheer relief, was probably when you were a teenager.” “How do you know?” Laughter edged his voice again. Billie paused, guiltily withdrawing her fingers to toy with the elastic on her panties. “Name the last time.” “After our interview at Avalon.” He had such a way of knocking her breathless. “Liar,” she said, flattered. “Why would you do that, knowing what kind of work night you had ahead of you?” “Because you turned me down. Left in a huff before I could even kiss you. I couldn’t get you out of my mind.” “Thank you, I think.”

“Her bright green eyes pop against the smudged black mascara. There’s so much pain hidden inside those liquid pools, and I want to unravel her. I’d like to soften up her edges till they’re so blurry I’m the only thing she can focus on, the only thing she can see. I need to light a fire where her heart has been left cold and hardened, rearranging her broken pieces around mine in a way I can make them fit together. I want to crawl inside of her so deep she can’t use me like she’s used to and then get rid of me and forget we happened.”

“Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her flawless skin had a slight sheen from her dash across the parking lot and up the stairs. Sexy, but he suspected the fantasy the sheen inspired was better than the reality. She was the job. Probably wore Kevlar to bed. End of story. Still, he did enjoy playing with her. He liked her big blue eyes, cute little nose, slim athletic body, and her earnest dedication to making the world a more law-abiding place. It made his dedication to crime much more interesting.”

“Her character was like a country which on first acquaintance seems grand, but inhospitable; but in which presently you discover smiling little villages among fruit trees in the folds of the majestic mountains, and pleasant ambling rivers that flow kindly through lush meadows. But these comfortable scenes, though they surprise and even reassure you, are not enough to make you feel at home in the land of tawny heights and windswept spaces.”