Quotessence
Home / Topics / Sports Romance Quotes

Sports Romance Quotes

Browse 101 quotes about Sports Romance.

Sports Romance Quotes

“I just don’t understand why they’d think we were together, when I’m leaving the country to live on the other side of the planet in a month?” It was Ryder’s turn to snort. “Well gosh, I don’t know Juliet. Maybe your hand on my cock was a clue.” She sucked in a breath, her eyes glittering now. “They could not see that!” “They didn’t have to,” he bit out. “We were practically humping each other at the table.”

“Calm down?” Her voice went really low, her eyes glittering. “Don’t tell me to calm down. I’m so freaking horny at the moment all I want to do is fuck. You got a problem with that?” Her words slammed into his groin. He should have a problem with it. She was pissed at him but still perfectly fine with using him. There was something really fucked up about that. Unfortunately, no part of Ryder had a problem with it.”

“This what you want, huh?” He pulled her hips off the wall with his spare hand to fit snug against his body. “Me using you like this?” His head lowered to her other breast, replacing the pinching with suction, soothing the stinging tip as his fingers tortured the other. Yes. This. Them using each other. That was what she wanted. What the hell was wrong with that? The irrational anger she’d felt in the car boiled up in her again. “Fuck you,” she panted, grounding her head and shoulder blades against the wall as her left hand ploughed into his hair and she twisted her fingers hard. He didn’t even flinch and that just made her madder.”

“It was perfect. Just right. Just what the raging, frothing she-demon inside her needed. The demon that had driven the stupid argument between them and nothing short of his possession was going to drive her out. Revenge sex had taught Juliet that it wasn’t possible to screw the angry out, but if anyone could, it was Ryder. She moved restlessly against him as he held himself high inside her. “Again,” she demanded. “More.” “Christ.” His breath was hot on her neck, his voice strained and clearly pissed off. “You’re so fucking bossy.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to be able to—” She looked around for lurking roommates and leaned in a little closer. “Fuck with that? Especially if it’s broken.” Ryder smiled. “I can fuck with all but a broken dick and even then, I’d give it a red hot try.” He lunged, grabbing her arm and she squealed playfully as he dragged her towards him. “Come and sit in my lap and I’ll show you.”

“This kiss was different from the first one under the olive tree. That one had been unplanned, she was pretty sure. This kiss had intention and hunger branded all over it. It was like one of those kisses you read about in fairy tales—but Alana had never imagined that such a kiss could cause bone-trembling shivers as well as bliss. She’d never considered the downside of the awakening kiss, of how the princess felt when the hero tore through the thorns or scaled the tower and speared heat and sex and life-changing energy into the princess’s world.”

“To me, the mark of a truly great sporting venue has never been what it sounds like or how it feels when the stands are packed. That's easy. Even the most generic cookie-cutter stadium or arena feels electric when the game is big, the lights are on, and the crowd is amped. The real measure of a ballpark's character is how the place feels when it's empty. When the only noises to be heard are produced by the occasional breeze that slips through the concourse. It rattles the ropes on the empty center-field flagpoles. It pushes a stray plastic cup around beneath the feet of the box seats. And if you listen closely enough, that wind carries on it the whispers of the ghosts. The athletes who played between the lines, their toes in the dirt where only those who compete are allowed to roam. During my career in sports media, I've heard their voices at Indianapolis Motor Speedway and Darlington Raceway. I've heard them at Lambeau Field and the Rose Bowl. I've heard them at old Boston Garden and Augusta National. And the morning of Thursday, March 3, 1994, I heard them at McCormick Field. Cobb, Gehrig, Dizzy Dean, Hank Greenberg, Jackie Robinson, Roy Campanella, Willie Stargell. From the Hall of Famers to a thousand minor leaguers whose names no one remembers. I swear, they were all there that morning to welcome us into the little mountain ballpark that they'd helped build.”

“Well, the way I see it, you’ve got two options. You can step back while me and the guys embarrass the fuck out of this bitch and make her crawl back into whatever hole she crawled out of. Or… we could go with option B.” I’m trembling from head to toe. “Which is?” His lips just barely touch my ear when he answers. “Option B is you let us worry about the aftermath and you handle this shit yourself,” he says. “And when I say handle it, I mean I want you to completely… fuck… her… up.”

“Claire shook her head. “I’m not that young. In dance years I’m practically middle-aged. I can probably compete for another ten years, but once I hit thirty, I’ll be ancient. That’s why it’s so important to compete in Blackpool now, I don’t have time to waste. Once I’ve made a name for myself as a dancer, then I can relax a little and take it easy.” “And here I thought I’d been partnered with a nice young lady,” Luca joked. “Are those highlights or grey hairs?” Claire scowled. “That’s not funny.” “What’s funny is your Cuban motion,” Luca continued, “I thought your hips were stiff because you’re not used to moving them, but maybe you just have arthritis.” “Seriously,” Claire’s mouth twitched, “stop it.” “Or what, you’re going to chase after me with your cane, Grandma?”

“— Така да бъде! Но щом репетираме категория под моя власт, ти ще ми се подчиняваш безропотно. Ще мълчиш, ще козируваш и ще изпълняваш всяка моя команда. — Ти виждала ли си вълк да играе в цирка?”

“Конкуренцията ни в крайна сметка се оказа жестока… Но пък за първи път не ми пукаше дали някой от журито ще ме подкрепи. Защото нали до себе си имах не кой да е, а именно Алексий Волков!”

“След доволно кимване пак посегна, а аз закрилнически покрих моята си храна. — Какво правиш? Решил си да ми докажеш, че и при свинете има канибализъм? Аз вече го знаех, така че не се хаби!”