Charlotte Stein Quotes

Make me," I tell him, and he does. He looks at me with the same soft eyes Brandon always offers, and says the words I didn't think he could: "I love you. I love you – stay.

One of the biggest lies out there is the one that says you have to be whole to be loved - that if you're not it's a miracle anyone would. But my love for you is not some flimsy miracle based on whether you're okay or not. Love is something you deserve. More than anything, Enid, you deserve love. You deserve it so much I sometimes ache to give it to you.

OK, so ... hugging. How does that go? You sort of ... stretch your arms out ... " He does so too robotically, too broadly. It looks kind of like he's trying to find a boulder to slot into the space he's made between his chest and his hands. He looks like Donkey Kong, I think, and then I giggle. "What? I'm getting this soooo right. I just have to clamp these things around you, now ...

I'm on the other end of the spectrum from oblivious, whatever that's called. Extreme noticing, perhaps? Severe and chronic attention-paying?

Ohhhhh Je-sus you're wet. Oh fuck, you're so wet, baby. Are you serious with this? It's all over your legs."
She blurted the words without thinking.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Before trying to do something mitigating, like closing her legs. Doing so proved hard, however, with him almost between them and his big hands refusing to move from her thighs.
And he looked so ... so incredulous too.
"Don't be sorry. Don't. You should know it's hot as fuck that you're like this. Seriously." He paused. Seemed to consider, before continuing. "You always like this?

Because you are already sure everything is a lie. My only defence is the absolute truth. My only power over you is the truth. And if I keep telling it, eventually you'll believe.

Someday he'll actually kiss me, and I'll turn to dust and blow away.

But most of all I'd like to thank the twelve-year-old me, for not giving up. I did tell you it would get better.

God his voice sounded like pouring cream. All rich and thick and good, so good.

Hey, calm down, OK? My penis isn't going to suddenly lunge at your face.

Dear God, she couldn't give this man sex. She could barely give it to Van, and he currently smelled so good she just wanted to shove her face under his t-shirt and eat whatever she found there.

I'm actually familiar with someone, and that person's familiar with me, and that feels better than I ever thought it would.

You're a bad girl, trying to force me over the edge ... But you don't have to. I'm already there. I'm already lost in you.

You want it, you slutty little bookworm.

Sol? As much as I appreciate you making me this lovely womanly blanket ... you think we could try lying like normal people who don't want to merge into one being?"
"Can't have that. We'd make one gross merged being. Your ass and my ass together? The universe would run in terror.

He's fucking stone cold deadpan. His pan is so dead he could lay it in a casket and bury it at Bellevue. They made a movie about him once: Dawn of Ivan's Pan.

I like you. I like you so much that I ... I think about you an inadvisable amount. But I really need there to be some more ... dating in what we're doing. Can we not just go out some time, have drinks, walk home, kiss goodnight?

I'm your boyfriend?"

[...]

"Well … yeah."

"Holy shit, I'm someone's boyfriend. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"And you're not just saying it because it pretty much means I have to tell you now?"

"To be honest, I'm kind of scared that the word slipped out."

I love him for doing a little fist pump after I've said that. I love him for sounding so delighted about the whole idea. He keeps saying 'boyfriend' in this wondering, chuckling sort of manner, and then when he's done I love him even harder.

I want to taste that sweet little mouth of yours," he says, but he's not done. He's just using a dramatic pause to build the tension for the next bit. And it's good that he does, because the next part is this: "Before I make you come so hard you forget who you are.

Go to sleep now, Abbie. I'll go to sleep with you, and dream my blackbird is gone, too. You looked up at me, and it went away. For a little while, I swear, it went away.

I'm not selfless. I've led a criminal, selfish life. Not sure I've ever cared about anyone." She watched him put his cigarette to his lips. It looked damp and forlorn, the way she felt, suddenly. "So it came as quite a shock to me to realize that when you love someone, it comes above all other things. All the other little pieces of your life. You just want them to be happy." - Kieran

Mick ... " I begin, as his tongue curls just ever so slightly around my earlobe. "I think you're gorgeous, but ... "
"You think I'm gorgeous?"
I've no idea why he sounds incredulous, again.
"Did I say that? I meant - "
"Because I think you're gorgeous. I think you're delicious, too. I just want to ... unwrap you.

But love isn't something that can simply bend around all barriers. It isn't a coat you can wear for all occasions.

She loved him for doing things like calling her such a goof. He said it with such warmth and affection, as though her being silly meant something good, instead of how her other boyfriends had felt about it - that being goofy or silly made her a scattered flake who didn't fit into their career plans.

I know because when I offered to help you move in you looked at me like you were just waiting for the punch line to a joke I wasn't telling. And that's what bullies do to people. They don't just hurt you or make you feel bad for five minutes in high school . They create the backbone of every friendship you try to have from then on. They change your life forever.

There were times, many, many times, when she just didn't get him. She'd heard on numerous occasions that men were bad, wicked creatures, who'd do terrible things at a moment's notice. You wore the wrong skirt or bent over at an inopportune time and BAM. They slipped their penises into you.

Oh my God, I'd forgotten what this felt like."
"Not a lot of huggers in Hollywood, huh?"
"None like this - holy shit. Okay, I'm just going to kind of slump into you now. So if you're averse to that, say before I'm swamping your helpless body."
"I don't mind if you swamp."
"Are you sure? Because I think I'm a fumbling virgin at this."
"You're doing fine. In fact I think I'm close to a cuddling orgasm.

His head went back, on the stroke up, again. When he finally looked back at her hands still on him, and his cock all neatly wrapped, his words came out gravelly, and wondering.
"What a strange notion."
"You won't miss too much of the sensation. It's really not that bad."
His mouth quirked up at the corner.
"Why would I miss any sensation? The whole of our bodies are going to be touching. Are you going to encase the rest of me in a stocking?"
Laughter, again. It felt good, so good.
"I guess not - now get down here and fuck me.

I made that happen to you, Letty. I made you take the road marked FOREVER WARY OF OTHER HUMAN BEINGS, instead of the one you should have taken.

And yet I feel I have to ask: if this is all the case, and you are so little and so weak … why is it that I could feel your presence through five inches of wood? Can you tell me, invisible Alissa? Why are you – in silence – stronger and stranger than any woman I've actually met?

You don't even know how lovely you are, my Evie.

That is fucked up. That fuck is so upped it might never get down again.

A vagina. Were you really that mystified there, or are you actually not sure?'
'Sure about what?'
Goddamn, he needs to finish his sentences.
'About the benefits of having a vagina.'
'Look – I know the benefits, OK?'
I totally don't. Currently it feels like an angry animal that wants to eat him, between my legs.

Certainly seems it when she half-turns in his arms and he just leans right down into her and kisses and kisses. Oh, how syrupy-slow his kisses are. She could live in those warm, wet pulls.

But then if I'm being honest, most happy-sounding things probably wouldn't suit him. He could be riding the Matterhorn at Disneyland while eating ten tubs of gingerbread ice cream and still seem as fierce and angry as fuck.

I can't just live here, Van. I can't. You know I can't. What would I contribute? What can I give to you? I - "
"You give me everything."
"Please don't say that."
"Why not? It's true. I don't even laugh for anyone but you.

He suggested devils, skulls, harsh masculine drawings. This thing was ... heart poundingly good. She wanted to pluck it, and bury her face in it, and keep it in a vase by her bedside.

But somehow, the way he looks doesn't quite compute in the manner it should. Instead, it just makes me realise something: I've never met a man as handsome as him who behaves the way he does. Who wears all of his expressions on his sleeve and puts a hand up his own cardigan and doesn't seem aware that he's utterly, utterly lovely.

Why not? It's true. I don't even laugh for anyone but you."
She hesitated, for that one. Did he really mean that? Surely not.
"Tim seems like a really funny guy." She tried, but all it did was make his mouth form that mean line.
"Tim pees in the kitchen sink."
"Well, okay. I could atleast promise not to do that, but even so-

And Jamie didn't want her either, even though he'd kissed her like her mouth had been made of candy in the middle of a candy-drought. He'd probably just slipped, and fell. Onto her lips.

I'm quite aware of what I am, Kit. I know how people look at me. I'm the guy you see in some bar, being loud and obnoxious. I'm the jock at your college, throwing a basketball onto your desk as you're trying to study. I know I am. But I want more than that now. I'm too old to be playing games any more.

It feels like you dropped your nightstick down your pants.'

'Oh, so that's where that went.'

'I'm not kidding. Is this all you? Because if so, I think I may need to rethink a few things. I may need to rethink the shape and depth of my vagina.

There's just the memory of that time he walked in on her while she was dressing, and afterward couldn't string a sentence together.
And not only that, but she hadn't even made fun of him for it. She hadn't! Oh no, why not? Also ... had the sight of her boobs possibly sort of made him fall in love with her? It had to be the boobs.

I try to act cool. I've never had a hand on my thigh, under the table. Cathy - my brother's wife - is telling a very funny story about the family's trips to Bridlington, and her elderly Grandmother is doling out peas, which makes the experience even stranger.

Apart from the obvious psychological problems, he's the perfect man.

Who cares what most men do? I say. He looks startled. Clearly the idea of not giving a shit has failed to occur to him.

I'd never leave you. God I'd never leave you.

I care about Cameron. I more than care. He's wonderful, and he should know it every day. He should know how kind he is, how good. How fantastic his story was, and how I can't wait to read more. And how I can't stop looking at him right now, because his face is so perfectly lovely that my eyes just have to make up for lost time.

Jesus Christ, you're soaking wet. Seriously, have you been going around with all this between your legs? I can feel it through fucking flannel, honey. Oh my God, I can feel it through flannel, he said, the first words almost steady and sure and the last ones like nothing she'd ever heard before.

Aw, honey - you sound real ready for it. You always get like this? All on edge like this, just about a second away from coming, before we've even started?"

How did he know? She didn't even know and she was the one about to do it.

"You know, most women can't come easy, this way. But it's good to know you can, 'cause baby I'm gonna work you so good on my cock, I swear to God.

Am I ... not what you were expecting?
Of course, my immediate instinct is to say no. No, you're not what I was expecting. You're so heavy and solid and masculine that I just want to climb you like a tree, and maybe live on your face for a couple of decades.

Just that one word - sound - sent a strong answering pulse through her body. His tongue curled around syllables that weren't there, like a promise. This is what you'll get, if you just let me hear.

I'm not some sex addict trying to sort myself out. I don't get a high from fucking everything that walks. I get a high from wanting someone as much as I want you. From actually thinking that for once ... for once in my life someone actually cares enough to cry because they think they've messed me up.

It's the only thing I never understood about him,that he had you ... he had you right in the palm of his hand. And yet somehow he didn't want to spend every second of every day touching you all over. He didn't want to make love to you.

I know, he says, and it's the strangest thing. I can tell he's smiling, slow and syrupy, when he says it.

I thought you were wet because that kiss was so intense I wanted to fall right into it and never come back up. Or maybe because I took those sweet little nipples in my mouth, and sucked on them.

But you should know it's not because I don't like you, or want to be your friend. I do want to be your friend. I think you're smart, and funny, and cool. It's just that ... when you talk like that ... " He hesitates, clearly wrestling with his next words. I understand why, however. I'd wrestle with them, if he turned them into people and forced them to get in a ring with me. They make me slide sideways into another dimension, so really when you think about it they deserve to be jumped on from the top rope. "It makes me feel insane. More than insane. Obviously you know now what it does to me.

I'd never leave you, either. You know that, right? You know that I'd never hurt you. Just in case that's what you're really worried about. And if you wanted to stop, at any point ... if you want to - "
"I don't want to stop. I want to grab you."
"You want to what?"
She had to check. Maybe she'd hallucinated.
"I want to grab you. I want to grab you now, really bad. Is that okay?"
"Oh my God that is really, really okay

When she finally pulled away from him - much to Aley's stuttering forward reluctance - he wanted only to echo Aley's words:
Oh! Do it again.

Too often women are expected to be considerate and thoughtful when really fear and doubt would be a more reasonable response.

See - this is the problem. You don't even get where this is going. You can't just ask me to come in, or kiss me, or tell me you want to know what smoking pot feels like. When I'm close to you I feel crazy, okay? When you say my name I feel crazy. It's not ... the right thing for you. I don't think I can just ... be your friend.

It's enough to send a spike of sensation through me, and enough to make him push out this delicious sound. It's like an oh with the smooth bits sawn off, all rough and guttural and so good to hear.

I don't need more space. I need less space. I need the minimum amount of space possible. This right here –" I say, then gesture to the place where our bodies are glued together "– is too much space.

I don't just want you, Serena. I love you.

Did you just have an orgasm, after hearing me talk about giving you an orgasm?"

All I can do is sob helplessly in answer.

"I think you did. I think you just came 'cause I'm fingering your sweet pussy and talking dirty to you – you know why?"

I don't, I don't.

"Because you're so nuts for this. Aren't you, huh? You're so primed. I can feel that hot little pussy clenching around me every time I move a muscle or say a word – ohhhh, yeah. Yeah, arch your back so I can look at you going nice and tight around my fingers. Yeah. Yeah. You gonna do that around my cock?

I mean, he did say vagina, didn't he? And if he did, then how come it sounded so exciting? Vagina is pretty much the least exciting word in the world. It's something your doctor says to you shortly before he invades it with what looks like a weapon from our robotic future.

He had lovely eyes, really - not assessing, at all, but big and dark and ... waiting.

I'm not like he is, you know," he tells me, but that isn't the part that stirs my cold, dead heart. It's the words he follows it up with a second later, as though it barely takes him anything to let them out: "So if you want to run, run. I won't sit on the side-lines and wait for you to slip away, like you never existed." He pauses, thickly. Takes a second, in a way I can understand. "I'll fight for you, El. I'll always fight for you.

All that matters is the way he's angling my face up to his, thumb and forefinger still on my jaw and my chin. It makes me think of someone taking a drink, only the drink in question is my lips. He wants to taste me there, and oh, that's exactly what it feels like.
He doesn't press his mouth to mine, too hard and too frantic. He just dips in, getting a little of me on his lips before going back for something deeper and sweeter. It's so much sweeter I could cry. I feel like I've been waiting for this for a thousand years, and, if his reaction is anything to go by, so has he.

She'd never really touched their faces before, but that didn't mean anything. She touched other parts of them all the time. Or at least, they touched things on her and she tried to pretend it wasn't happening in case she accidentally slipped and fell tongue first into their mouths.

I think my heart is coming out of my mouth."
"That's good. Keep going."
"I almost passed out while kissing your cunt."
"Oh that ... I don't know if he would - "
"He would. He wants you to look like that, when he says it. I want you to look like that when I say it. I want you to squirm because I've just told you that you tasted like a sweet, ripe peach. I can still taste you when I lick my lips.

Are you fucking kidding me? How do you get this wet? Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. I don't even ... ohhhhh God. It's all over your legs. Oh baby, I'm gonna fuck you so hard.

You know, kissing, she said, as though this was just going to be a demonstration. Which it apparently was, because suddenly she found herself leaning forward and
It lasted no more than a moment. Barely anything at all, really. And yet when she pulled back, she could read the effect it'd had, all over his face. It hummed through him, visibly. His big eyes swallowed her whole.

It's really kind of you, she settled on, finally.
But in response he just shrugged. No big deal. The nicest thing anyone had ever done for her was really no big deal at all.

Evie, stop," he said between kisses. She should have been relieved. She should have, but really all she could feel was the heavy and constant ache between her legs. How warm it made her feel, how daring.
And of course it only got worse when he said, "God, baby, you're so greedy."
It didn't even humiliate her. Somehow he made it sound like the sweetest, sexiest compliment, and when she pushed a hand through his hair and tried to get him to kiss her again, his lips parted. A ripple seemed to go through his body, as though it affected him as strongly as it affected her.

Girl with a pie, I'll call it. It's almost like guy with an axe, if you squint hard enough.

You know, there's nothing you could tell me that would change my mind about you."

"That's 'cause you know me now, June. You don't ever want to know about me then. I don't want to know about me then."

"Think I would have ever ripped my back open on barbed wire to get away from you?"

"No - no, Jesus, June. Are you crazy? I could never, I could never - "

"Then I'm okay knowing you, whenever. I don't care what you say - you're a good guy. You're the best kind of guy. The things you've done for me, I - "

She couldn't speak, then. The glow was almost completely gone - it would never return if she started bawling.

"Hey, hey - okay. Okay, baby. It's okay.

I would be deliciously pleased if you could rectify this issue.

Wear it for me, the note says, though it's not the words I'm interested in. The words are a command, of the type men have given me all my life. But the question mark on the end ... the question mark is the thing I'm drawn to. I trace it with my fingers, that curve as compelling as the wood he's worked into such lovely shapes.

I would never forbid you. I can't forbid you. It's not in my power to, and it never should be.

I love you, Quade," she says, once the kiss is done and with his warmth still in her. "Always have."
"See, I knew - "
She cracks him one on the arm before he can finish. It can't always be kisses and dancing, after all. Sometimes you've got to keep things zesty. Sharp. Tough, like love is. She's pretty sure her love for him is tough all right.
It let her run to him, after all.
"Okay, maybe I didn't know. But I knew this much - I've loved you since the first day you punched me in the face. And I'll love you 'til the last.

Mainly I was just … looking at you. You went to sleep in the crook of my arm – never had anyone do that before.

Because that is how you feel, is it not? You feel so perfectly invisible, like no one could ever notice a single thing about you. And, in fact, you've grown so used to this state of affairs that you've started to fall in love with it. You like being in the background, hidden from view ... lingering around the edges at parties ... keeping out of conversations in case someone finds you as insufferably dull as you've always suspected you are.

I want to kiss you. I want to so badly I can barely think of anything else. When you enter a room it's my only thought, and it torments me night and day.

You know it feels good. I can hardly geta ... I don't even ...
There was something amusing about watching him trying to form a coherent sen-tence. Amusing, but arousing at the sametime.

Ohhhh are you coming?" he asks me. "Oh God Mallory, I can feel you doing it around my cock. I can feel you – that's it, baby. Fuck yourself on me.