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Lust Quotes

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Lust Quotes

“His touch was fire and sin, a dangerous game between pleasure and surrender — and I was already losing”

“I fell because the surroundings in which I found myself saw in this degrading thing only a legitimate function, useful to the health; because others saw in it simply a natural amusement, not only excusable, but even innocent in a young man. I did not understand that it was a fall, and I began to give myself to those pleasures (partly from desire and partly from necessity) which I was led to believe were characteristic of my age, just as I had begun to drink and smoke. And yet there was in this first fall something peculiar and touching. I remember that straightway I was filled with such a profound sadness that I had a desire to weep, to weep over the loss forever of my relations with woman.”

“We shouldn't be reassured, either, when a partner insists that they have no interst whatsoever in any other human on earth. We should wonder what they are opting not to tell us about and why - and feel sad that we haven't as yet established a sufficient atmosphere of trust for the beautiful peculiarities of the sexual mind to be safely explored.”

“Cassian surveyed her. Gazed into her eyes and breathed. 'Beautiful.' He didn't halt the hand she laid on his muscled chest. Or when she pushed against that chest, backing him into the wall, his wings splaying on impact. He just stared and stared at her, marvelling- hungry. Nesta didn't, couldn't, move as Cassian leaned to whisper in her ear. 'The first time I saw that look on your face, you were still human. Still human, and I nearly went to my knees before you.' His breath caressed the shell of her ear and she couldn't stop her eyes from fluttering shut. His smile brushed against her temple. 'Your power is a song, and one I've waited a very, very long time to hear, Nesta.”

“She could imagine how it would be. That was the worst part. The suggestive taunts that made her feel clumsy and hyper-vigilant, the soft touches that could spring like a trap—they painted a very vivid picture of what it would be like to fuck him, yes. He would not be nice or gentle, but he would be good, and he would gore her heart like any other trophy in this place just as soon as he was done playing with it.”

“Tell me again what you said at the revel,' he says, climbing over me, his body against mine. 'What?' I can barely think. 'That you hate me,' he says, his voice hoarse. 'Tell me what you hate me.' 'I hate you,' I say, the words coming out like a caress. I say it again, over and over. A litany. An enchantment. A ward against what I really feel. 'I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.' He kisses me harder. 'I hate you,' I breathe in to his mouth. 'I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else.' At that, he makes a harsh, low sound.”

“I want to fuck and be fucked, to be so interested in them that the sex is interrupted by conversation, and then the conversation by sex. Maybe I just want intimacy, the tactile kind. The getting-to-know-you-from-the-inside-out kind. The three-fingers-deep, mouth-tasting-of-you kind. The I'm-hungry-let's-make-toast-at-three-in-the-morning-so-we-can-keep-going kind. The lesbian kind.”

“Tell me again what you said at the revel,' he says, climbing over me, his body against mine. 'What?' I can barely think. 'That you hate me,' he says, his voice hoarse. 'Tell me that you hate me.' 'I hate you,' I say, the words coming out like a caress. I say it again, over and over. A litany. An enchantment. A ward against what I really feel. 'I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.' He kisses me harder. 'I hate you,' I breathe in to his mouth. 'I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else.' At that, he makes a harsh, low sound.”

“I am queer for my lover's body. Horehound is mescalinestrong. Dazzling as expensive fireworks. One taste of my Horehound's feast and I beg for his tendrils to twine around my genitals like how a bull is primed for a rodeo. I am ready to be ridden until I kneel on the dusty ground, horns to the dirt, begging to be tamed. Tame me, my sweet, my bitter Horehound. Make me grow unfettered around your body, as your namesake grows. Lie still; let my tongue function as fingertips, my senses of touch and taste meld. Let me be the cartographer of your body I know how to start: from your left nipple, closer to your heart, where the pump of blood heats that tit more than the other. A more flavourful place to begin, no? Let me suck, childhungry, until it spurts bitter on my tongue, pushing my mission to the hollow under your left arm, again warmer because of your pumping heart. I will nestle in your brush, press my mouth and nose close to your skin, follow the flow of your blood as a paper boat in a storm drain does, forcefully, involuntarily, to your left wrist, kiss your fingers as if they were a sacrament, read the lines in your palm. I will find the oases, the monuments, the dikes, the hells, the battlegrounds of your body so I will know where to hide when you love me or when you fury me.”

“This wasn’t just lust or infatuation, this was intoxication, a craven’s craving I could not explain. But then, what was love but a want of the flesh, or a want of the soul. I wanted this man. I couldn’t not want him. I couldn’t not breathe. I wanted him in a way that was so absolute I couldn’t care if he didn’t want me back the same way.”

“But there was something else going on here. He had to admit even to himself that the woman challenged his intellect and his beliefs with her own, and she wasn’t afraid to disagree with him or to disapprove of his views. Nor did she make any attempt to school her sentiments behind the polite, prim, and proper demeanor of the typical English noblewoman. She was fierce. She was passionate. She was fiery and intense. She was like no other woman he had ever met. And suddenly, just like that, he was under her spell once again.”

“Now he was kissing the shell of her ear, nipping at it gently and then soothing the nips with soft kisses. “You have no idea what you’re about to unleash if you continue.” He chuckled low once again, but said nothing as he bit the nape of her neck and gently licked it with his tongue. “You play with fire, sir.” “Let it burn, Julia. Let me be your King of Wands.”

“It was the prospect of seeing Mr. Rodman again that agitated her, especially after their miserable discussion of her beliefs and their silent but heated interaction over the Kama Sutra last Sunday. She didn’t like Mr. Rodman. Not really. There was no denying he was attractive and that he had the potential to affect her like no other man ever had. Still, he was an arse. Not only did he disparage her beliefs and practices but also he had condemned her for keeping wives from their husbands by offering them refuge in her home. True, he might have said he approved of the shelters after hearing the story of Phoebe, but when it came down to it, he was a man. And she had no doubt that, as a man, he would side with other men, the law, and the Church over a woman’s fate, if ever asked to do so.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rodman.” When he heard her whispered response, his gaze fell to her lips, and desire coiled through his body as he imagined how they would feel beneath his. Warm and pliant, no doubt. Eager and willing, maybe. Greedy with insatiable need? He hoped. “You’re most welcome.” She didn’t move, and he? He couldn’t move. He remained rooted to the stone floor as her lovely face entranced him. He was too aware of how close they stood to one another for rational thought. It would take no effort whatsoever for him to lean down and kiss her luscious lips. Something flickered in her eyes as they stared at each other, and he could sense the moment she felt the same pull as he did. Something primal, something hot flashed between them, and as he reached up to stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers, he determined right then he would do it. He parted his lips slightly and bent down subtly. He was inches away from contact, but he wavered just one second too long as he debated with himself whether to touch her lips lightly with his own or give in to the powerful urge to crush his mouth and body against hers.”

“Did I misread the heat in your eyes? Was I wrong about what you wanted?” Still unable to form words, she said nothing. “Because I know without question what I wanted in that moment.” He paused as though he were waiting for her to respond, but still, she remained silent. He chuckled, his voice low and seductive. “Wouldn’t you like to know what that was?” She shook her head no. He shrugged. “I’ll tell you anyway. I wanted more than anything in the world to take you in my arms, Julia, and kiss you senseless. And much more. So. Much. More.”