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First Kiss Quotes

“The explosion was deafening; a huge cloud of fire rolled out the window after us, its immense heat brushing my face as we tumbled into the snow. We hit the ground and rolled. Flaming debris from the house came down around us; Griffin shoved me flat on my back, covering us both with his heavy coat. The echoes of the explosion reflected back across the river, then slowly dwindled away, like dying thunder. The leaping flames threw warm light onto the falling snow, turning it into a storm of sparks pouring down from the heavens. Griffin started to push himself off of me, then stoped. His hands were braced on either side of my shoulders, his legs twined with mine. Mt heart pounded, my palms sweated, and I was suddenly, acutely aware of how close his face was to mine. "You're a madman," he whispered. "An utter madman." "Perhaps," I allowed. "But it worked." The leaping light from the burning house painted his features in gold, highlighting his patrician nose and finding threads of brown and blue in his green eyes. His pupils widened, the irises contracting to silver. "Whatever am I going to do with you?" he murmured. The warmth of his breath feathered over my skin. Heat collected in my groin, my lips. My mouth was dry, my voice hoarse, and perhaps he was right and it was madness when I whispered, "Whatever you want." A shiver went through his body, perhaps because we were lying on the cold ground. But instead of getting up, he leaned closer, his overlong hair tumbling over his forehead. He paused, his mouth almost touching mine, his eyes seeming to ask a question. It was madness; it was folly; it was sheer selfishness. I was delusional, misguided, wrong, out of control. I needed to pull back, to say something sane, to re-establish mastery over myself. I could not do this. I could not take the risk. Later tonight, I'd relive this moment in my lonely bed and wonder if I'd done the right thing. But at least that would be familiar, would be something I knew how to cope with. And yet the very thought felt like dying. I surged forward, crossing the final, tiny gap and pressing my lips to his. It was awkward and desperate and frantic, but the feel of his mouth against mine sent a bolt of electricity straight down my spine. Just a moment, just this one kiss, surely that would be enough... Then he kissed me back, and it would never be enough, a thousand years of this would not be enough. His mouth was hungry and insistent, his tongue probing my lips, asking for greater intimacy. I granted it, tongues swirling together, mine followed his when it retreated and tasting him in return. There came the clanging of bells in the distance, the fire company alerted to the explosion. Griffin drew back a fraction. His breath was as raged as mine, which left me dazed with wonder. "My dear," he whispered against my lips. Then he swallowed convulsively. "We should leave, before the fire companies come." "Y-Yes." It was amazing I managed that much coherence. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling. "Will you come home with me?" Was he asking...? "Yes." Oh, God, yes. His lips curved into a smile.”

“Our eyes met and a never-before feeling entered our hearts. We gazed at each other longingly. We were indeed smitten by each other. Even before we realised, our lips locked. Ah, my first kiss. I had heard stories of how the first kiss is etched in one’s memory forever. This was absolute bliss. I felt a sense of belonging, a sense of togetherness. He took me by surprise with his proposal of love for me. Those magical words still linger in my heart. My dream of finding the right man had become a reality.”

“I feel something on my chest. Ivy's resting her head on me. In fact, she's pulled herself so close that we're touching everywhere. My heart picks up speed again, but I'm surprisingly calm, seeing her beautiful face close to mine, her eyes closed in an expression of content bliss, and—the best part—feeling her own heart pound in time with mine. She's feeling what I'm feeling. That is when I know for sure. "Ivy?" I know what I have to do. "Mm?" Her songbird voice is a calm purr. "I think...no. I really, really like you." Like moving through molasses, Ivy raises her head. Her eyes are enormous with bewilderment. But there's no fright, no dislike, no anything that discourages me, With that in mind, I don't hesitate as I move my face and my lips to her lips. Ivy's lips are cool like water but delicate and velvety and smooth like round pebbles. She smells like wildflowers, wet earth, and freshly cut grass, which only makes me want her more. I press my lips harder against hers, and a shiver of delight snakes through me when I feel her press back. Daring myself, I open my mouth. So does she, and the kiss deepens. My hand slides upward to caress her satin cheek, and the back of my neck tingles as her fingers play with my hair. This is it. Ivy's and my first kiss. I wouldn't have it any other way. Unhurriedly we pull our faces away, though we leave our foreheads touching. "Ivy?" I peer into her eyes. She doesn't look upset, but more calm and curious. She meets my eyes and asks, "What was that?" "A kiss. You do it with people you like." To my amazement Ivy leans forward and kisses me again. It's incredible as the first time. "That is my feeling towards you," she tells me as she leans back. She meets my eyes, her face flushed but determined. "I...am...really liking you, too." I smile and pull her to me, and we grasp each other like we never want to let go. She likes me. I like her. This can't get any better.”

“And then, without any warning at all, he presses his lips against mine. As his mouth covers my own, I find myself reeling, as if I have been tipped backward and am falling, falling, so that even the stars in the sky are spinning. His lips are warm and soft, the unrelenting pull of his desire for me as strong as the pull of the waves against the sand. It is not like practicing with Ismae, or even Sybella. It is not like any of the first kisses I have imagined over the years. It is far, far better and more wondrous, and yet terrifying as well, like one of the raging storms that pound against the convent walls in the winter, threatening to breach its defenses. So too does this kiss threaten something deep within me that I cannot even name.”

“Finally, I laugh. Genuine and normal sounding. And then my date says the best thing that he could possibly say: “It’s okay. I haven’t been on one of these [dates] in a while either.” My smile triples in size. Josh grins. “Just give me your hand.” “W–what?” “Your hand,” he repeats. “Give it to me.” I extend my shaking right hand. And – in a moment that is a hundred dreams come true – Joshua Wasserstein laces his fingers through mine. A staggering shock of energy shoots straight into my veins. Straight into my heart. “There,” he says. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.”

“I'm silenced by his right hand cupping my chin and ear, his left hand flattening against my ribs as he gently pushes me back against the wall. I can feel the brick pressing into my naked upper back, cold and rough. His kiss is slow, tender...firm. His lips are warm, tongue smooth and flat, filling my mouth...I can't even feel my own tongue...taking my breath away with his.”

“I think I finally understand the saying like a moth to a flame. I’m the moth. My heart flutters like the paper thin wings. And he is the flame, incendiary, scorching my soul. He inhales so heavily, like he’s been holding his breath under water. He presses his lips against mine and tugs at my hair gently. My head falls back and my mouth falls open. His tongue, slick as silver, dances with mine. I’m wrong. I’m not a moth. I’m Icarus and I’ve flown too close to the sun.”

“When you kissed me, Clyde? I felt more in that one pissed-off kiss than I felt in those three or four attempts at making love. And I realized it wasn't a lie, after all. That was the best kiss I've ever had. By far. So tell me what I have to do to earn another one, because embarrassingly enough, I always seem to be the girl begging for affection and even with a broken give-a-damn, I don't know how much more humiliation I can take.”

“Our first kiss was there on the bridge in the woods. How do you describe a first kiss? It is like trying to hold water in your hands. There is an ancient Chinese proverb that compares kissing to drinking salted water. “You drink, and your thirst increases,” it says. Time, I’m sure, passed by, but we remained unavailable for comment.”

“I thought it could be something, I mean, eventually." Harrison finally looks at us. "My life I thought-but I mean... it's nothing." "Don't cry" Grace says. "You have a lot of time." "No, I don't." "Yeah, you do." "No.-" "Yeah! Yeah, you do. It's okay. Look-" She does something that is so amazingly selfless and also gross. She tilts Harrison's face up and gives him a sweet kiss on the lips and it lasts long enough for him to taste her back, to move his mouth against hers. Harrison stares at her dumbfounded but he's stopped crying She is so nice.”

“Our first kiss would be in a sunlit wood or under a starry sky after a village dance, not in a tomb or some dank basement with guards at the door.” “Let me get this straight,” Nina said. “You haven’t kissed me because the setting isn’t suitably romantic?” “This isn’t about romance . A proper kiss, a proper courtship. There’s a way these things should be done.”

“Gothel had told her that cutting her hair would kill her. The Goodwife said that was nonsense; it would only affect her powers, if anything at all. And come to think of it, Rapunzel did lose the occasional hair when it caught on something, or when she was combing it out. The dead hairs turned a dull brown, and it used to panic her when she was little. Did it take a day off her life? A month? A year? She thoughtfully wrapped a lock of hair around her fingers. Biting her lip, she brought the shears up.... "Rapunzel? What are you doing? No!" Flynn had quietly come in (and had paused at the door, preparing to say something theatrical) but immediately dropped all playing. He ran over and grabbed her hands, holding them away from her. "What... oh," Rapunzel said, confused and taking a moment to figure out what he was doing. "You thought I was going to hurt myself. You didn't hear what the Goodwife said? Cutting my hair won't kill me." "Oh. No, I did not hear that," Flynn said, collapsing against the edge of the workbench. But he didn't let go of her right hand. "Maybe when the group learns something important like that, you could let me in on it? You know, keep me in the loop?" "Sorry," she said, a little chagrined. "I guess this looked really bad, didn't it?" "You have no idea, Rapunzel, I... I think I died a little when I saw that." He opened his mouth, trying to say something else. Was he going to go into full funny Flynn Rider mode? Or was he actually going to say something serious? Rapunzel could hardly breathe, waiting to see. And then he kissed her. It wasn't like the night before, when there was a pause and a feeling of expectation. He took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. With desperation, maybe as if she really had almost died. Rapunzel shivered-- and for the slightest moment panicked that it was her magic activating. But it wasn't... When he stopped, she reached up and touched his lips gently. She didn't want the moment to end. "I don't want to lose you," he whispered. "But if I have to... I'd rather it be to your happy ending than to..." "Brigands and mercenaries, or a hair-related death, I know. You do care, Flynn Rider!”

“He approached her, his voice taking on a seductive tenor. "Shall we seal it with a kiss, then?" Callie caught her breath and stiffened at the question. Ralston smiled at her obvious nerves. He ran a finger along the edge of her hairline, tucking a rogue lock of hair behind her ear gently. She looked up at him with her wide brown eyes, and he felt a burst of tenderness in his chest. He leaned close, moving slowly, as though she might scare at any moment, and his firm mouth brushed across hers, settling briefly, barely touching before she jumped back, one hand flying to her lips. He leveled her with a frank gaze and waited for her to speak. When she didn't, he asked, "Is there a problem?" "N-No!" she said, a touch too loudly. "Not at all, my lord. That is- Thank you." His breath exhaled on a half laugh. "I'm afraid that you have mistaken the experience." He paused, watching the confusion cross her face. "You see, when I agree to something, I do it wholeheartedly. That was not the kiss for which you came, little mouse." Callie wrinkled her nose at his words, and at the nickname he had used for her. "It wasn't?" "No." Her nervousness flared, and she resumed toying with her cloak tassel. "Oh, well. It was quite nice. I find I am quite satisfied that you have held up your end of our bargain." "Quite nice isn't what you should be aiming for," he said, taking her restless hands into his own and allowing his voice to deepen. "Neither should the kiss leave you satisfied." She tugged briefly, giving up when he would not free her and instead pulled her closer, setting her hands upon his shoulders. He trailed his fingers down her neck, leaving her breathless, her voice a mere squeak when she replied, "How should it leave me?" He kissed her then. Really kissed her. He pulled her against him and pressed his mouth to hers, possessing, owning in a way she could never have imagined. His lips, firm and warm, played across her own, tempting her until she was gasping for breath. He captured the sound in his mouth, taking advantage of her open lips to run his tongue along them, tasting her lightly until she couldn't bear the teasing. He seemed to read her thoughts, and just when she couldn't stand another moment, he gathered her closer and deepened the kiss, changing the pressure. He delved deeper, stroked more firmly. And she was lost. Callie was consumed, finding herself desperate to match his movements. Her hands seemed to move of their own volition, running along his broad shoulders and wrapping around his neck. Tentatively, she met Ralston's tongue with her own and was rewarded with a satisfied sound from deep in his throat as he tightened his grip, sending another wave of heat through her. He retreated, and she followed, matching his movements until his lips closed scandalously around her tongue and he sucked gently- the sensation rocked her to her core. All at once she was aflame.”

“He shook her. "Listen to me!" She looked him in the eye and said very gently, "No." And his fear and frustration and longing, and all that he'd kept so carefully tamped down deep inside himself, simply exploded. He pulled her roughly into his arms and bent his head to devour her lips. She was sweet and soft, and her taste was like balm for his wounded soul. He opened her mouth with his tongue, thrusting inside almost desperately, as if her depths held all the secrets he needed to sustain life. She moaned low in her throat, so softly he felt more than heard it, a tremor against his lips, and he moved his hand to her jaw so that he might press his thumb against the pulse of her throat and understand the emotions that swept through her.”

“You’re the mayfly,' he murmurs. And then Evan Walker kisses me. Holding my hand across his chest, his other hand sliding across my neck, his touch feathery soft, sending a shiver that travels down my spine into my legs, which are having a hard time keeping me upright. I can feel his heart slamming against my palm and I can smell his breath and feel the stubble on his upper lip, a sandpapery contrast to the softness of his lips, and Evan is looking at me and I’m looking back at him.”

“Placing an elbow on the other side of her head, Noah leaned close and kissed her once more. This time, it was more of a thought than a feeling, a soft heat that began at her mouth and unfurled through the rest of her. One of his cold hands slid behind her neck and he kissed her again, lips parted. It was not just a touch, an action. It was the simplification of both of them: They were no longer Noah Czerny and Blue Sargent. They were now just him and her. Not even that. They were only the time that they held between them.”

“She let him kiss her, and kissed him back until he pulled back on an elbow and clumsily wiped away some of her tears with the heel of his fist. His smudge had gotten very dark, and he was cold enough that she shivered. Blue gave him a watery smile. "That was super nice." He shrugged, eyes doleful, shoulders curled in on themselves. He was fading. It wasn't that she could see through him. It was that it was hard to remember what he looked like, even while she was looking at him. When he turned his head, she saw him swallow. He mumbled, "I'd ask you out, if I was alive." Nothing was fair. "I'd say okay," she replied. She only had time to see him smile faintly. And then he was gone. She rolled onto her back in the middle of the suddenly empty bed. Above her, the rafters glowed with the summer sun. Blue touched her mouth. It felt the same as it always did. Not at all like she had just gotten her first and last kiss.”

“It felt easy, natural, unthinking, but the thrill--- there was the proof it was a first kiss, the first kiss, as if she had never kissed or been kissed properly by anyone before. Every sense was heightened in a swirl of pleasure; the woodsy smell of his skin, the bittersweet Campari on his tongue, the warm envelopment of his presence even as he touched only her lips and her elbow, the sight of fireworks behind closed eyes, and the sound of the world falling silent. A cyclone of sensation overloading her system, and the two of them, alone together in the eye of a beautiful storm.”

“No, don't," Evie said urgently, as St. Vincent reached for the ties once more. She grappled with him, her fingers tangling with his. And then suddenly his mouth was on hers, and he pushed her against the side of building, anchoring her with his own body. His free hand caught the nape of her neck, beneath the weight of her damp hair. The lush pressure of his mouth caused a shock of response in every part of her body, all at once. She didn't know how to kiss, what to do with her mouth. Bewildered and shaking, she urged her closed lips back against his, while her heart thumped wildly and her limbs went weak. He wanted things that she didn't know how to give. Sensing her confusion, he drew back and possessed her mouth with small, persistent kisses, the bristle on his face scraping gently against hers. His fingers came to the fragile structure of her jaw, tilting her chin, his thumb coaxing her lower lip apart from the upper. The instant he gained an opening, he sealed his mouth over hers. She could taste him, a subtle and alluring essence that effected her like some exotic drug. His tongue pushed inside her, exploring in caressing strokes.... sliding deeper as she offered no resistance. After a luxuriously probing kiss, he eased back and their mouths were barely touching, their breath mingling in steamy puffs that were visible in the chilled night air. He brushed a half-open kiss against her lips, and another, his soft exhalations filling her mouth. The light kisses strayed across her cheek to the intricate hollow of her ear, and she gasped shakily as she felt his tongue trace the fragile rim, just before his teeth caught softly at the tiny lobe. She writhed in response, sensation streaking down to her breasts and farther, gathering low in intimate places. Straining against him, she searched blindly for his hot, teasing mouth, the silken stroke of his tongue. He gave it to her, his kiss gentle but sure. She curled her free arm around his neck to keep from falling, while he kept the other wrist pressed against the wall, their pulses throbbing hard together beneath the wrapping of white ribbon. Another deep kiss, somehow raw and soothing at the same time... he ate at her mouth, tasted and licked inside her... the pleasure of it threatened to blot out her consciousness. No wonder... she thought dizzily. No wonder so many women had succumbed to this man, had thrown away their reputations and their honor for him... had even, if rumor could be believed, threatened to kill themselves when he left them. He was sensuality incarnate. As St. Vincent lifted his body away from hers, Evie was surprised that she didn't crumple bonelessly to the ground. He was breathing as hard as she, harder, his chest rising and falling steadily.”

“Evelinde's thoughts died as she saw that her still-damp chemise was transparent. She could clearly make out several dark patches through the clinging cloth. One was the large mottling bruise on her hip, the other another even bigger bruise on her ribs, but the others were not bruises at all. Her darker nipples were clearly displayed in the damp shift, and the dark gold at the apex of her thighs stood out against her pale skin. A gasp of horror caught in her throat, but before Evelinde could pull away and cover herself, he'd taken hold of her arm. "And here." She peered distractedly down at the arm he'd turned slightly. She had seen all these bruises earlier, the result of her tumble in the river, not from falling from her horse as he supposed. She was more concerned with other issues at the moment, like her near nudity. When he leaned a little closer to see her upper arm better, Evelinde sucked in a startled gulp of air. His breath was blowing hot and sweet on her chilled nipple through the damp chemise. The effect was almost shocking. Evelinde stood completely still, holding her breath as he examined her injury. He took an exceptionally long time doing so, much longer than he had with the other bruises. And the whole time he did, he was inhaling and exhaling, sending out warm puffs of air over the trembling nipple. Each time he did, an odd little tingle went through Evelinde. Then he suddenly raised a hand to run a finger lightly around the discoloration on her arm, and his wrist brushed against her nipple through the damp cloth. Evelinde was sure it was accidental, and he did not even notice, but the effect it had on her was rather startling. She closed her eyes as an odd pleasure rolled through her body, finding herself suddenly torn between putting some space between them and staying put to enjoy more of the astonishing effect he had on her. When he finally released her arm and unclasped her legs, she opened her eyes to find him standing up. Before Evelinde could regain enough of her senses to go find her gown and draw it on to cover herself, he'd clasped her head in one hand and tilted her face up to his as she brushed his finger lightly in a circle along her left jaw. "Ye've another here," he growled. "Oh," Evelinde breathed, as his finger apparently followed the edge of the bruise past the corner of her lips. That, too, was from her fall in the river, but she couldn't seem to untangle her tongue enough to say so as his finger trailed over her skin. "Ye've beautiful eyes, lass," he murmured, peering into those eyes now rather than at the injury he was tracing. "So do you," Evelinde whispered before she could think better of it. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips right before his mouth covered hers. Evelinde stiffened at the unexpected caress. His lips were soft yet firm, but kissing her was wholly inappropriate. She was about to say so when something prodded at her lips. Evelinde tried to pull back, but his hand was at the back of her head, preventing her retreat. Suddenly she found her mouth invaded by his tongue. Her first instinct was to push him away, but then his tongue rasped along hers, and Evelinde stilled again. The caress was surprisingly pleasant. She found herself holding onto his arms rather than pushing him away, and her eyes closed as a little sigh slipped from her mouth to his.”

“Our faces must be covered in sauce right now," said Isabella as she gnawed a second rib. "Only one way to tell." Isabella could sense Gabe getting out of his seat and leaning across the table to kiss her; only, in the process, he knocked down what sounded like two wineglasses and a small carafe of water. Still, he followed through, his lips landing near her left eye--- she burst out laughing--- before kissing their way down the path of sauce on her cheek to her lips, which opened up to help them finally connect with their target. "All clean," said Gabe, after kissing her for a good twenty seconds and returning to his seat. "You're better than a Wet-Nap," responded Isabella, who was blushing several shades of red and glad that nobody--- especially Gabe--- could see.”

“He kissed with a practiced ease that threatened to completely unmake me, one broad palm finding the small of my back as he tugged me closer. I went willingly, unthinkingly, my arms wrapping around his neck when he tilted his head and traced the seam of my lips with the tip of his tongue. It wasn't supposed to be like this. My body was not supposed to react to his proximity, his touch, his kiss. This wasn't real. But for my body, this kiss was real as it got. My breath quickened as the seconds slipped past, as Reggie briefly dipped his tongue into my mouth before withdrawing again. His taste was peculiar, like metal and salt, like that time I'd accidentally bitten my tongue while eating too fast and blood pooled in my mouth. It did nothing to dispel the moment, or to distract me from the very real sensations coursing through me. I clutched at the ends of his shirt collar, thinking of only bringing him closer, not even realizing I was doing it until he returned the favor by bunching up the fabric at the front of my dress in his fist. "Amelia," he whispered against my lips. And then, it was over. Reggie pulled back by degrees, giving me a sheepish grin. I was warm and flushed all over. I had no doubt that my face was as red as the strawberries I'd eaten for dessert. When I looked into his eyes, the blacks of his pupils had nearly swallowed up the brilliant blue irises, but he seemed otherwise unaffected by what we'd just done.”

“His lips were sweet and gentle. As their mouths moved softly against each other, her heart swelled. Oh, this... this was divine. His tongue gently pushed against her lips as if it wanted to gain entry. She had assumed that this would've been a quick, obligatory lips-only kiss, but she was pleasantly surprised she was wrong. She wanted more, more of him, more of his heat. She opened her mouth for him, and damn. He tasted like the rum from the ponche, and he smelled like freshly chopped firewood. Adrenaline pulsed through her body as he explored her mouth and pressed his hard body against her soft one.”

“A sigh leaves Jack's lips- a soft exhalation- and in that moment she is lost. There is no Cloudesley, no Charles, no ticking clocks, no past or future; there is nothing but the clearing and Jack, and their hands clasped together. When she looks up at him, his face seems closer, so close she can see the amber flecks in the slate-grey of his eyes. It is like gravity, she thinks, as she leans in towards him, her lips meeting his. Its is a force so natural- so inevitable- so like falling- or flying- that she isn't sure she could stop their kiss even if she tried.”

“Outside, the night was soft and fresh. There was a half-moon shining brightly in a field of stars, a glowing ring of light surrounding it, and it had made a trail across the bay that showed in places through the darker screen of trees. They walked in silence, and she breathed the mingled scents of wildflowers sleeping in the shadows, and the salt air of the sea. He had not let go of her hand. She did not want him to. They did not leave the clearing but at length they reached its edge, where rustling branches stretched above them and the light and noise and music of the barn seemed far away. One heart-shaped leaf fell from a nearby tree and landed on his shoulder and unthinkingly she lifted her free hand to brush it off before it marked the white coat she had worked so hard and long to clean. She felt him looking down at her, and glancing up self-consciously she started to explain. And lost the words. And then he bent his head and kissed her. Everything around her seemed to stop, and still, and cease to matter. She could not have said how long it lasted. Not long, probably. It was a gentle kiss but at the same time fierce and sure and full of all the pent-up feelings she herself had fought these past months, and now she knew he had felt them just as she had, and had fought them, too. It was a great release to give up fighting. Give up everything, and float in the sensation.”

“I don't... we can't..." His white teeth flashed in his tanned face, and he pulled her up against him so that she stood on her toes, so that her balance depended on him. "I can't believe I've managed to wait so long." What did he mean, so long? They'd met only two days ago. Then she saw his expression as he lowered his head to hers, and she realized that for this man, two days of restraint were an eternity. The man saw what he wanted and he went after it- and he wanted her. Her eyes closed as his lips touched hers. Close-mouthed, gentle, seeking. She tried to pretend this wasn't happening. Madeline didn't want him and wouldn't wed him, yet it wasn't right for Eleanor to kiss her cousin's fiancé. But the crackle of hay beneath her feet and the scent of the horses gave this moment an unrelenting reality. The buttons on Mr. Knight's jacket dug into her sternum. His arms handled her with an expertise that bespoke familiarity in handling an unwilling woman, and he kissed... like a beast of sensual powers. His lips were silky soft, skilled in the art of love, giving pleasure with the lightest touch. He barely brushed her lips, yet she found herself lifting her face, seeking his touch like a flower follows the sun.”

“I have not come here... to talk about Count Philippe... but to tell you that... I am going... to die..." "Where are Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daaé?" "Of love... daroga... I am dying... of love... That is how it is... I loved her so!... And I love her still... daroga... and I am dying of love for her, I... I tell you!... If you knew how beautiful she was... when she let me kiss her... alive... It was the first... time, daroga, the first... time I ever kissed a woman... Yes, alive... I kissed her alive... and she looked as beautiful as if she had been dead!..." The Persian shook Erik by the arm: "Will you tell me if she is alive or dead?" "Why do you shake me like that?" asked Erik, making an effort to speak more connectedly. "I tell you that I am going to die... Yes, I kissed her alive..." "And now she is dead?" "I tell you I kissed her just like that, on her forehead... and she did not draw back her forehead from my lips!... Oh, she is a good girl!... As to her being dead, I don't think so; but it has nothing to do with me... No, no, she is not dead! And no one shall touch a hair of her head! She is a good, honest girl, and she saved your life, daroga, at a moment when I would not have given twopence for your Persian skin.”

“Then I came back to Christine. She was waiting for me..." Erik here rose solemnly. Then he continued, but, as he spoke, he was overcome by all his former emotion and began to tremble like a leaf: "Yes, she was waiting for me... waiting for me erect and alive, a real, living bride... as she hoped to be saved... And, when I... came forward, more timid than... a little child, she did not run away... no, no... she stayed... she waited for me... I even believe... daroga... that she put out her forehead... a little... oh, not too much... just a little... like a living bride... And... and... I... kissed her!... I!... I!... I!... And she did not die!... Oh, how good it is, daroga, to kiss somebody on the forehead!... You can't tell!... But I! I!... My mother, daroga, my poor, unhappy mother would never... let me kiss her... She used to run away... and throw me my mask!... Nor any other woman... ever, ever!... Ah, you can understand, my happiness was so great, I cried. And I fell at her feet, crying... and I kissed her feet... her little feet... crying. You're crying, too, daroga... and she cried also... the angel cried!..." Erik sobbed aloud and the Persian himself could not retain his tears in the presence of that masked man, who, with his shoulders shaking and his hands clutched at his chest, was moaning with pain and love by turns. "Yes, daroga... I felt her tears flow on my forehead... on mine, mine!... They were soft... they were sweet!... They trickled under my mask... they mingled with my tears in my eyes... they flowed between my lips... Listen, daroga, listen to what I did... I tore off my mask so as not to lose one of her tears... and she did not run away!... And she did not die!... She remained alive, weeping over me, with me. We cried together! I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer!" And Erik fell into a chair, choking for breath: "Ah, I am not going to die yet... presently I shall... but let me cry!... Listen, daroga... listen to this... While I was at her feet... I heard her say, 'Poor, unhappy Erik!'... And she took my hand!... I had become, no more, you know, than a poor dog ready to die for her... I mean it, daroga!... I held in my hand a ring, a plain gold ring which I had given her... which she had lost... and which I had found again... a wedding-ring, you know... I slipped it into her little hand and said, 'There!... Take it!... Take it for you... and him!... It shall be my wedding-present from your poor, unhappy Erik... I know you love the boy... don't cry any more!'.... She asked me, in a very soft voice, what I meant... Then I made her understand that, where she was concerned, I was only a poor dog, ready to die for her... but that she could marry the young man when she pleased, because she had cried with me and mingled her tears with mine!..." Erik's emotion was so great that he had to tell the Persian not to look at him, for he was choking and must take off his mask.”

“She was the one to kiss me, nervously, because it was something she had never done before- with me or with anyone else. At first she just brushed her lips on mine, and she was on the precipice of doing something more, but she didn't quite know what to do. I took over then, leaning into her and kissing her. She tasted of tears and toothpaste, salt and sweet.”

“His lips brush mine, and then I'm the one surging forward, meeting his mouth. Or maybe we move together. All I know is that we're kissing as if it's sweetly painful, like we've waited so long it's almost too much to bear. And it's so good. So very good, the feel of his mouth flowing over mine, learning the shape of me as I learn the shape of him. He makes a noise deep in his throat, a protracted groan, a needy request for more. Liquid heat pours over me, my mouth opening to his. He tilts his head, his tongue sliding in for the first taste, and I slowly break apart beneath him, my mind going hazy, my body on fire. God, I need more. I need everything. There's no more hesitation. No more careful touches of tongue to tongue, lips softly questing. Just base hunger. Macon kisses me as if he's parched, his jaw wide, tongue thrusting deep, so deep. I arch against him, held down by his chest, his fingers grasping my hair. That small bite of pain drives me frantic, kicks my lust up. We become hot breaths, nips, licks, small wordless sounds. He's surging against me, hard cock moving over my sex, grinding into the tender swell of my clit. And I wrap my leg around his hips, wanting more. The action shifts our positions, and the thick crown of his cock notches against my opening. It feels so damn good I moan into his mouth, my hips pushing up on him. He shudders, suckling the plump crest of my bottom lip, and rocks into me--- only the barrier of his sweats and my bikini keeping him from entering. But it's enough. Enough that I feel that fat head pushing and nudging there but leaving me unfilled, empty. My muscles clench sweetly, wanting relief, needing more. I slide the flat of my tongue against his, whimpering, undulating against him. He groans long and pained, his whole body moving with his stunted thrusts. We're going at it like sweaty teens, dry fucking each other in the sand. And I don't care. I want his clothes off. I want mine gone.”

“Have you ever been kissed before?" She flushed scarlet and had to wet her lips before she could speak. "Not well kissed..." His shoulders shook. "Miss Cross, you leave me speechless." He cupped her jaw in his hand as his other hand came to the small of her back and pulled her against him. "I'll try to do better," he whispered against her mouth, and then he kissed her again. If she had expected another soft touch of his lips against her, she was quickly proven wrong. This time, his mouth settled on hers with intent, firm and insistent. When she gasped at the difference, his tongue slid between her parted lips and teased her until she moaned. He kissed as if he meant to conquer her, and Eliza was all too happy to surrender. His hands moved over her, gripping her waist, sliding up her shoulders to hold the nape of her neck as his mouth traveled over her eyelids and down her jaw. She whimpered as his teeth grazed her earlobe, setting her earring swaying, and she almost melted when his hand brushed her breast. It was an accident, she thought wildly, because they were pressed so close together- somehow her hands had got around his chest, beneath his jacket- but then he did it again. He muttered something profane and tore off his glove, and then it was his bare hand on her breast, his palm cupping her, his fingers teasing along the edge of her bodice until- oh, heavens- his thumb went right over her nipple. Eliza's start of shock turned into a shiver of ecstasy as he stroked the hard little nub again. He pulled her hard against him, until his hips met hers and she felt his unmistakable arousal. His mouth was hot and wet against her neck, and dimly Eliza thought that if he asked, she would tear off her dress and give herself to him right here on Lady Thayne's terrace, in the rain, ten feet away from a ballroom full of people. This was what it meant to want someone with a burning passion. Thank all the saints in heaven she'd got a chance to feel it once in her life...”

“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.”