Poppet Quotes

M possessed, gripping her head and looking at the deep crimson bruise on her neck, fading to black at the edges. Her wrists are banded with yellow-green bruises, and when I turn her I spot the finger marks left on her thigh.
Did he do this to you?

Just once, he looks back at Arsay, and I feel like an entire encyclopedia of information and words is exchanged between them. I wish I could speak telepathy too.

Every man needs a shadow to reveal his light, to always be that close, ever present, bonded forever in astral allegiance.

I'm a tundra with wind endlessly blowing a hollow tunnel through me.

Mandy (lentil eating, lesbian, long socks) in PR

Now now Ellindt, you know I love it when you beg." Chuckling silently, every jolt from my hold causes her hands pulsating pain, and I bend to speak intimately into her ear again, "But I love it more when you scream.

She looks at me with wide eyes, delight and joy evident, sitting forward, They are dreaming? You watch dreams? Movie is dream?

If you fuck like your eyes do, your wife must be one delighted lady.

I've known you forever, and you are only just remembering me.

How awful is it to be sane enough to be fully aware of the day you realize you are completely losing your grasp on reality. I'm crazy. Not just a little bit, but rubber room ready out of my mind fucked up.

He gives me the stare that only men can do. The mouth tightening exasperation stare.

Now more than ever I wish I had a cup of oblivion. But there is no mercy for the people who have left the darkness for the light. The darkness lingers until you stand naked in the light and let it fill you up, in every corner of your soul.

Lady, you have just become a wanted woman. I suggest you start running.

In a perfect patch of paradise he stays immobile for an eternity while the predawn breath strokes his skin and kisses each vertebrae down his spine.

Do not feed fear. Starve it.

The soy is seeping through the material like a BP oil slick in a Louisiana swamp.

Your lack of questioning and curiosity has been the bane of my existence.

Levelling my stare at him I drop a hint like a penny into a well, You mentioned you were tied up. Win, you should have reserved that privilege for me.

The answer to my thoughts is the loud ripping of my shirt when he tears it straight down my back, yanking it forward around my shoulders and imprisoning my arms in the sleeves.
"I've got you now," he says, breaking the kiss and sounding like a god about to unleash wrath.

You failed her when you turned your back on what you are.

Until she walked into my life I was simply a violin of rusted notes. In one night she rearranged the mess inside me, exposing the symphony was there all along it just needed a conductor to make my pulse compose to the harmonies of her celestial touch. Those notes are strung up neatly now, the five lines of the stave crammed with adulation, filling sheets, unleashing a sonata of adoration, drumming my heart and strumming my veins.

I loathe being crimped into this deplorable position on the vampyre chessboard.

Kicking the door shut with the heel of my boot, I wedge her against it, raining kisses on her skin, wishing I could climb inside her and kiss away the welts left on her heart and mind.

Why the hell do women always have to bring back up? It's not as if I'm going to molest her at the opera.

You can only push me so far little slakax, and then I will do what has to be done, with or without your permission.

This time you aren't escaping. It's time for a heart transplant.

The problem with all of you is you think in isolation instead of realizing we are one community, when one of us falls, we all fall.

Turning away, sobbing, I hide behind my hair, the kettle and coffee forgotten. It's too hard to talk about it. I can't talk about it. It's no one's business but mine. The trauma breathes in my blood, it feasts on my life, it gives me cold sweats and nightmares still.

She's so caught up she's unaware she's no longer the prisoner here, I am

Kin is a shortened term for kinetic. Kinetic means to move. All that moves is your kin

I'm there to block your next move. This is a game

A man who is obviously too handsome for his own good smiles at me. His eyes are mischievous, as if he's harboring wicked thoughts and is tempted to subject me to them.
I hold his dark gaze for a moment too long, and then pin my focus back on the

I'm the riddle you have yet to solve

I manage to hold the poker face when she submits to dominance, to the summons, and swans into my arms, pressing her quivering form against mine when she embraces me.

A shade slinks over me and I'm caught off guard when he leans down, placing a blossom in my cleavage, his face shadowed and secretive.

An innocent smile skates closer with her movement, walking fingers up my stomach to halt over my heart, "Mate, you." She nods, as if declaring this is easy and absolute.

I die a little more, still in silence, paralysed by you, in fear, in pain.

To sore make bad energy, make innocent cry, Aisyx no spread pain plague.

When the archeologists find this place they'll destroy history. Mankind will attempt to bury this information but we will ensure there is a leak. Intel this valuable makes insignificant fame starved humans grand masters of legend.Secrets are best retold to hungry ears.

There's a time and a place for everything. ... Yes. This is my time and you are in my place.

Free your mind, Jowendrhan. A cage is only a cage as long as you believe it is.

In truth the issue is that we are so powerful what we believe becomes our reality.

Snatching my hand in the death grip of his fingers, he pulls me off the wall to line his chest, closing his body around me in a muscular cage which smells of leather and soap.

His sniff rips a new piece off my heart.

God bless you butterfly, because now I'm claiming you like no mate has ever been claimed in the history of our kind

Yanking at my leg, straining every muscle, my customized Gray Ghost rebuilt as a chopper sparks and squeals.
My boot catches and I'm flipped. Sliding down E-70 Highway on leather, my gloves scrubbed by the tarmac.

Eve is married to my credit card, not me

Phoebe, don't play coy. If you were willing to give a peeping Tom a show, and you thought you were doing it for my benefit, then let's cut the pretend out of this and shoot straight for cold hard honesty

We must have been very very bad in our last lives, cos karma's busy making macramé with us.

She wears those old fashioned pj's like body armour. Going to bed these days is like wresting with Kevlar.

He gives me one of those twinkling stares. His eyes coalesce and fragment color, glinting specks of midnight purple and an electric blue, when the light catches them just right. Straight on they look like indelible pitch, well deep with secrets and primordial darkness.

Hold tight, and I promise to do the same. We don't need a safety net Zena. We have each other.

Lady, when I met you I must have run through a puddle of luck

Guys like you would try to shag the button hole in a fur coat.

You fed my heart soup.

Aye, he smiles, joy igniting in his stormy gray eyes, stroking my hand possessively as if unwilling to let me go for fear I am nothing more than a hallucination about to wear off.

Every footfall of my boots echoes and ricochets louder and louder, the excruciating stroll I take induces her heartbeat into pecking so hard and erratic, my dick starts hurting with an anticipatory throb.

Terror starts picking at the seams of my mind, throwing hateful words like rapture and holocaust at me.

Naïve, and very very dangerous. If she only knew what treacherous waters she has just stepped into.

The closer she hip sways to me, the taller and tenser I stand, until I'm so rigid my muscles ache.

The sun sets, the strange clouds glowing eerily like a full moon laced with arsenic and occult warnings.
Eternity stretches out her mocking red carpet, hinting at the long lonely walk of regret I have ahead of me.

Pulped in his crushing strength, his hug is enough to smear me over his body like war paint.

Stapled to her gaze, sucked into the potency of her focus, only the trace of her blood in my mouth reassures me this is not a vision but a hallucinogenic pause from responsibility.

His voice... my nipples are like tuning forks responding to that pitch – that purrrrr.

The flock mirror the madness of their liege.

I'm not a man easily moved to displays of emotion, but tonight I am weak, I am vulnerable. It must be from being inside her, so close to her, breathing in her pain, and love, and light, and blossoming vulnerable beauty

Like opium, nerve annihilation stretches up my veins to pump incinerating anguish through my body.

It's a heady aphrodisiac being exposed to his unique voice when he adopts that tone. His voice reverbs on a bunch of notes simultaneously. It's the first thing you notice about Ryan, his voice sounds like an orchestra playing a symphony composed by angels. It's most distracting until you grow immune to it, and now I'm back to completely infected with the Ryan voice virus.

He's a contradiction and that's why he's so perfect.

Lifting, smiling back at her giggle, her relief, I tease, If you want to bleed sweetheart, I can make you bleed. I promise if I do it will be way more fun.

Eyes sparkling with blue open and stare a scalded soul at me.

What's it like feeling the smooth heat of that arm, tracing the supernatural muscles bunched in his arms and chest, teasing anyone with a pulse and hormones to lick their way down the divots and planes of that skin, to unbutton the leather shielding his body and taste all the way down to that silver buckle on his belt.

And you had to do that in a thunderstorm pissing down like a camel?

Alone in the dark all we have are the supernal lights in each others eyes left to illuminate the room, the only sound our breathing.

He follows me down, catching his weight on either side of my head so he can leer his face into mine, coiling muscles and immobility at me, I want you to lay into me. Fight me.

He's lighting up my life and I don't even know his name. He's already perfect.

Biting a plump bottom lip, I stare into endless irises open and poised over my own. Sliding my hand up her thigh, under her gown, I pull her closer with the hand cupping her hipbone, releasing the growl of a king caught in delight.

Arsay should have been a vampyre. He loves the entire Gothic error, the décor hasn't changed since gargoyles sprung up all over Paris.

It shatters the game, exposing the players

Fear only has power when I cower under the illusion.

The sad thing is that sometimes I just wanna roll over and give her a little cuddle, but the bolster pillow she insists on sleeping with down the middle of the bed between us means I'd need to be a mountaineer as well as a locksmith.

His touch is incredible, it holds my insides, my heart, my mind, shimmering hot heat into cold places, thawing my spirit ... and it rejoices. I'm immediately obsessed, consumed with need to stay in this balmy light, soaking in his touch, relishing the euphoria it brings to my discarded spirituality.

Because I thought you were a dirty angel, but you fell before you had a choice. The dirt wasn't yours.

You are my flower and I am your stem holding you to the light.

Holding my hands, kissing the palms, his smile is ecstatic, jubilant, adoring, and the song playing speaks for him, Have you ever seen the light ... the way it shines in you.

She shakes her head, fisting hands into my t-shirt and sobbing into my neck. And all I can think about is how good this feels

I'll email you, he says as if he's asking me into the cellar to taste his vintage champagne.

In my darkest hour she answered my call without resentment or guilt, without hesitation

Not that I did, bang her that is. I'm not saying I wouldn't, how could I ever be sure about something like that?