Ferity Lip Quotes

Be mine and you become the queen on my board." He pauses and flicks his tongue to lick my lower lip. "Fight and you'll remain a pawn. ~ Rina Kent

That was the sound of a sneer."

"Was it?" Amused, aroused, he distracted her with a nibble on her bottom lip. "I can never tell the difference. And what sound is this?"

"What sound?"

He drove himself into her, one powerful and deep thrust that ripped a shocked cry from her throat.

"That one." He lowered his head, tasting the heat that rose to her flesh even as her hips arched to meet him. "And that one."

She struggled to get her breath back. "Tolerance," she managed.

"Oh, well, if that's the best we can do." He started to move back. She reared up, wrapped around him.

"I need to practice my tolerance." She skimmed the hair away from his face with her fingers, then fisted her hands. Her lips curved, met his. ~ J.D. Robb

Piracy, Hollywood Style: An Ode to Errol Flynn
His galleon emblazoned and beckoned to the coral's black mire,
And ol' wispy eyed Errol, the pirate, stiffened his lip:
Her Majesty's Rogue Navy may have set ol' Bessie afire -
But I'd be a fool to go down and drown with me ship!"

"Fer, a pirate I am, and A pirate I'll be,
I don't need to die 'proper' with false dignity -
All I need is a new ship, and a flagon of ale.
The latter to drown in, the former to sail!

"Aye! Give me a strong wind, and twenty good men,
And I'll take to the high seas, and pirate again!
And should I be lucky to spot a Royal ship in me scope -
I'll hang her good captain from ten yards of rope!

"Aye! And when her cowardly crew gives me their lip,
I'll give them the 'dignity' to go down with their ship!
Aye! Give me a strong wind and twenty good men,
And I'll take to the high seas, and pirate again! ~ Beryl Dov

Men like to categorize women." I curl my lip. "Into convenient little boxes like 'hot', or 'cute', or 'beautiful'. It's easy for them. It's never been easy for me."

　　"So this particular girl," the man leads. "She's none of those?"

　　"She's all of those," I say, a little too quickly for my own liking. "And more than those, and at the same time she's none of those. She is exactly herself, no more and no less. ~ Sara Wolf

Want to know the best part of being a warlord?' came a hoarse whisper.

I bit my lip, puzzled by the question.

Keir's mouth curled up slowly into a smile. 'I always get what I want. ~ Elizabeth Vaughan

Who taught you to shoot?" he asked when she was standing beside him.
"Our coachman."
"Better the coachman than your brother," Ian mocked, handing her the loaded gun. "The target's that bare twig over there - the one with the leaf hanging off the middle of it."
Elizabeth flinched at his sarcastic reference to his duel with Robert. "I'm truly sorry about that duel," she said, then she concentrated all her attention for the moment on the small twig.
Propping his shoulder against the tree trunk, Ian watched with amusement as she grasped the heavy gun in both her hands and raised it, biting her lip in concentration. "Your brother was a very poor shot," he remarked.
She fired, nicking the leaf at its stem.
"I'm not," she said with a jaunty sidewise smile. And then, because the duel was finally out in the open and he seemed to want to joke about it, she tried to follow suit: "If I'd been there, I daresay I would have - "
His brows lifted. "Waited for the call to fire, I hope? ~ Judith McNaught

He remained still for a moment, not long enough for her to wonder if she'd made a mistake. Then he took charge, wrapping his arms around her, cupping his hand over the back of her head, loosening her hair from its style so it tumbled against her sensitized skin. His lips were firm, like the rest of him, and demanding, his tongue stroking along her bottom lip and into her mouth. His breath came hot and heavy against her cheek, and his erection pressed against her hip. Raindrops fell from his skin to hers, and she marveled that she could feel the warmth of him in those drops. ~ M.J. Fredrick

Is Belhaven the other man?" he asked gently.
The color drained from Elizabeth's face, and it was answer enough.
"Damnation!" expostulated the earl, grimacing in revulsion. "The very thought of an innocent like yourself being offered to that old-"
"I've dissuaded him," Elizabeth hastily assured him, but she was profoundly touched that the earl, who knew her so slightly, was angered on her behalf.
"You're certain?"
"I think so."
After a moment's hesitation he nodded and leaned back in his chair, his disturbingly astute gaze on her face while a slow smile drifted across his own. "May I ask how you accomplished it?"
"I'd truly rather you wouldn't."
Again he nodded, but his smile widened and his blue eyes lit with amusement. "Would I be far off the mark if I were to assume you used the same tactics on Marchman that I think you've used here?"
"I'm-I'm not certain I understand your question," Elizabeth replied warily, but his grin was contagious, and she found herself having to bite her lip to stop from smiling back at him.
"Well, either the interest you exhibited in fishing two years ago was real, or it was your courteous way of putting me at ease and letting me talk about the things that interested me. If the former is true, then I can only assume your terror of fish yesterday isn't quite…shall we say…as profound as you would have had me believe?"
They looked at each other, he with a knowing smile, Elizabeth with brimming laug ~ Judith McNaught

Ifemelu decided to stop faking an American accent on a sunlit day in July, the same day she met Blaine. It was convincing, the accent. She had perfected, from careful watching of friends and newscasters, the blurring of the t, the creamy roll of the r, the sentences starting with "so," and the sliding response of "oh really," but the accent creaked with consciousness, it was an act of will. It took an effort, the twisting of lip, the curling of tongue. If she were in a panic, or terrified, or jerked awake during a fire, she would not remember how to produce those American sounds. ~ Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Rick smiled mischievously and said, "I think I'm going to learn 'Kisses sweeter than wine'. It's a fun one."
Amelia laughed. "What it about?"
"It's about a guy who falls in love with this girl who has kisses sweeter than wine. As you know, folk songs have a story to tell. Well, he asked her to marry him. At first she wouldn't accept his proposal, so he had to beg and plead with her."
"Why didn't she want to marry him?"
"I think she was worried about how it would change her life. She'd been on her own for quite some time and she had to get used to the idea."
Amelia bit her lip and glanced down at her lap. With curiosity, she asked, "Did she finally accept his proposal?"
"Yup. It just took her a while to realize he was the best thing that ever happened to her." Rick grinned. "She sort of reminds me of someone else I know. ~ Linda Weaver Clarke

A war-like lot, to be sure, bent on their own glory, 'paying lip-service' – she loved that English phrase – to Cultural Respect, but not really caring about it. ~ Carole McDonnell

Once we recognize the power of propaganda, we need to ask whether its exercise is consistent with those democratic ideals to which lip-service is commonly accorded. ~ Randal Marlin

He got in beside her and impatiently reached for her seat belt, snapping it in place. "You always forget," he murmured, meeting her eyes.
Her breath came uneasily through her lips as she met that level stare and responded helplessly to it. He was handsome and sexy and she loved him more than her own life. She had for years. But it was a hopeless, unreturned adoration that left her unfulfilled. He'd never touched her, not even in the most innocent way. He only looked.
"I should close my door to you," she said huskily. "Refuse to speak to you, refuse to see you, and get on with my life. You're a constant torment."
Unexpectedly he reached out and touched her soft cheek with just his fingertips. They smoothed down to her full, soft mouth and teased the lower lip away from the upper one. "I'm Lakota," he said quietly. "You're white."
"There is," she said unsteadily, "such a thing as birth control."
His face was very solemn and his eyes were narrow and intent on hers. "And sex is all you want from me, Cecily?" he asked mockingly. "No kids, ever?"
It was the most serious conversation they'd ever had. She couldn't look away from his dark eyes. She wanted him. But she wanted children, too, eventually. Her expression told him so.
"No, Cecily," he continued gently. "Sex isn't what you want at all. And what you really want, I can't give you. We have no future together. If I marry one day, it's important to me that I marry a woman with the same backgroun ~ Diana Palmer

I've never quite mastered the art of holding my liquor," she replied. He watched her root around in her purse a moment, before pulling out a tube of lip balm.
As Jonas watched her apply it, he nearly got distracted from her answer. Leaning forward, Jonas murmured, "Can't hold your liquor, huh?"
She replaced the cap and dropped it back into her purse. "Not so much. I tend to get a bit too happy."
His eyebrows shot up and his cock came to full-alert status. Happy--he liked the sound of that. "And that's a bad thing?"
To his utter shock, Deanna blushed. "In my case it is."
Curiosity got the better of him. "Care to explain?"
The waiter returned with the check, forcing Jonas to drop the conversation while he fished out his credit card. Once they were alone again, Jonas waited, hoping Deanna would go into more detail. She didn't disappoint him. "All my inhibitions disappear. It's not a comfortable feeling for me."
She was killing him. An immediate picture of a carefree Deanna sprang to mind. He liked it a hell of a lot. "Most people enjoy letting it all hang out every once in a while. Taking life too seriously leads to an early grave."
"Maybe, but if I suddenly develop the urge, I'd rather be coherent."
"You don't like to give up control," he surmised.
She cocked her head to the side, as if unsure how to respond at first. "It's not that," she said. "I guess if I'm in the mood to go romping naked through a forest, for example, then ~ Anne Rainey

Foes I sniff, when I have less to shout
or murmur. Pals alone enormous sounds
downward & up bring real.
Loss, deaths, terror. Over & out,
beloved: thanks for cabbage on my wounds:
I'll feed you how I feel:--

of avocado moist with lemon, yea
formaldehyde & rotting sardines O
in our appointed time
I would I could a touch more fully say
my countless mind. The senses are below,
which in this air sublime

do I repudiate. But foes I sniff!
My nose in all directions! I be so brave
I creep into an Arctic cave
for the rectal temperature of the biggest bear,
hibernating -- in my left hand sugar.
I totter to the lip of the cliff. ~ John Berryman

What I know about auto racing could be inscribed with a dry Magic Marker on the lip of a Coke bottle. ~ David Foster Wallace

She chews her lip, staring into my eyes. "Okay ... Why did you kiss me in Austin?"
I laugh softly and she frowns. "Sorry. That one's too easy." My gaze flicks to her mouth and back. "I'd wanted to kiss you ever since Quinton suggested playing spin the bottle, and by that night in your room, I'd run out of willpower to fight it. ~ Tammara Webber

They ran in the sunlight, creating their own breeze which pressed their dresses into their damp skin. Reaching a kind of square of four locked trees which promised cooling; they flung themselves into the shade to taste their lip sweat and contemplate the wildness that had come upon them so suddenly ~ Toni Morrison

He stared at Wolfe. "When you attack me you have to make it look real." Wolfe's face tightened. Kir sighed heavily, his lip curling up almost condescendingly. "I mean it, Wolfe."

I wasn't surprised when Wolfe made no response. Clearly, he didn't want Kir to get hurt.

Coming to the same conclusion I had drawn, Kir pulled back his shoulders, his own expression determined. There was a dark, mischievousness in his eyes, I didn't trust.

"Fine." He shook his head, throwing Wolfe a warning look. "Then I guess I'll have to make you want to."

When his long arm came out and caught me around the waist I squawked in undignified surprise and instinctively pushed against his hard chest as he crushed me to him, his other hand winding into my hair to bring my lips against his in a hard, punishing kiss.

(...)Quite abruptly that muffled exclamation was given free reign as his body was wrenched from mine, soaring across the room and straight through the door.

That's right. Straight through the door. Not the doorway. The door.

I gaped in befuddlement at Kir collapsed around the wooden splinters of the door in the hall, groaning as he drew himself up into a sitting position.

"Come on." I blinked down at the large familiar hand wrapped around my wrist and then up at its owner. Wolfe. A really angry Wolfe. ~ Samantha Young

He settled over me, not touching, not quite. The electricity between us snapped and pulled. A wild feeling pulsed through me. I lifted my hands, sinking them into his hair, pulling him closer. I swept my lips over his, and his body trembled. His fiery eyes drifted shut as my thumb moved on his bottom lip. My hands were on the move, slipping over the thick cords in his neck and back, around his chest and down. Lower, over the hard planes of his stomach. He sucked in a sharp breath. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

Unlike those theists who at least pay lip service to science and scientific method, Johnson is out to convict science of fraud in the court of public opinion. ~ Victor J. Stenger

Someone like Ashlee Simpson, she lip-synchs on 'Saturday Night Live,' gets totally called out la Milli Vanilli, and no one really cares that much. It doesn't make me hate Ashlee; she's just taking instructions. ~ Henry Rollins

I missed you," she said softly, her breath against his cheek making his body harden everywhere.
"You too."
"It's terrible to be this infatuated."
"I agree."
"I haven't felt this alive in years."
"Me either."
"Screw the interview," she said breathlessly. "Let's make out."
He saw stars. Literally. Stars. How was this possibly his life? Beautiful women did not show up on the doorsteps of disabled vets and proposition them.
"Are you an alien?" he asked.
"Not that I know of."
"Are we on Candid Camera?"
She took a quick look around the room. "You never know, but my guess is no."
"Is someone paying you a vast sum of money to make me feel like this?"
She bit her lower lip, as if deep in thought. "Not that I recall, but if a million dollars suddenly hits my account, I'll give you half."
"You must be for real. Fine. You win. Let's go make out. ~ Katy Regnery

My lip trembled, my throat raw, and I started to cry. But not because I didn't look perfect. But because I looked healthy and because I wasn't sure how long I'd stay that way. ~ Laekan Zea Kemp

Came to ... see you."
"But I had to go home, remember? You were supposed to say good-bye."
"Don't know why you ... say good-bye. I say ... hello."
Her lip quivers between reactions, but she ends up with a reluctant smile. "God you're a cheeseball. But seriously, R - ~ Isaac Marion

Once I had finished conducting business with Herr Kassl, I went in search of my sister. Käthe was easy to find, even in this sea of faces in the square. Her smiles were the broadest, her blue eyes the brightest, her pink cheeks the rosiest. Even her hair beneath that ridiculous hat shone like a bird of golden plumage. All I had to do was follow the path traced by the eyes of the onlookers in the village, those admiring, appreciative glances that led me straight to my sister at the center.
For a moment, I watched her bargain and haggle with the sellers. Käthe was like an actress on the stage, all heightened emotion and intense passion, her gestures affected, her smiles calculated. She fluttered and flirted outrageously, carefully oblivious to the stares she drew like moths to the flame. Both men and women traced the lines of her body, the curve of her cheek, the pout of her lip.
Looking at Käthe, it was difficult to forget just how sinful our bodies were, just how prone we were to wickedness. Born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward, or so saith Job. Clothed in clinging fabrics, with every line of her body exposed, every gasp of pleasure unconcealed, everything about Käthe suggested voluptuousness. ~ S. Jae-Jones

The woman trembled, eyes wide as she stared at the bluff. Her teeth pressed against her lower lip hard enough he wouldn't have been surprised to see blood. Devyn recognized the building hysteria. His chest tightened; he'd seen like expressions all too often and it opened a raw, bleeding hurt in his chest. ~ Lynda K. Scott

I always put a layer of lip balm first, and then I layer the lipstick on by using a lip brush to help get it into the whole lip and make a really even line. ~ Gracie Gold

Okay, I'm going to let you in on a little secret: I'm a very superstitious person. I'm walking onto the plane as we speak. I'm putting my hands on the outside of the plane and my feet are on the lip of the plane. I have to do it every time before I fly. ~ Jessica Chastain

That's about when it happens. Coming down the escalator from one Nord floor to the next we see Little Teena has commandeered the grand piano. He's busy busting out Bach to all the bewildered shoppers. Little Teena just doesn't look for Nordstromy sitting there, with his red hair slick up in a pompadour, his girth squeezing out between his black leather jacket and the lip of his jeans, gumball machine rings decorating every single one of his fingers. But it's hen he goes from Bach to Great Balls of Fire that we attract the attention of the Nordfuck's militia. ~ Lidia Yuknavitch

I can't even walk out the door without, even to go to the race track, without my MAC lip gloss. ~ Angela Cope

Well. Um. The thing is…" I inhale, then continue with rapid-fire speed. "Imnotahockeyfan."

A wrinkle appears in his forehead. "What?"

I repeat myself, slowly this time, with actual pauses between each word. "I'm not a hockey fan."

Then I hold my breath and await his reaction.

He blinks. Blinks again. And again. His expression is a mixture of shock and horror. "You don't like hockey?"

I regretfully shake my head.

"Not even a little bit?"

Now I shrug. "I don't mind it as background noise - "

"Background noise?"

" - but I won't pay attention to it if it's on." I bite my lip. I'm already in this deep - might as well deliver the final blow. "I come from a football family."

"Football," he says dully.

"Yeah, my dad and I are huge Pats fans. And my grandfather was an offensive lineman for the Bears back in the day."

"Football." He grabs his water and takes a deep swig, as if he needs to rehydrate after that bombshell.

I smother a laugh. "I think it's awesome that you're so good at it, though. And congrats on the Frozen Four win."

Logan stares at me. "You couldn't have told me this before I asked you out? What are we even doing here, Grace? I can never marry you now - it would be blasphemous."

His twitching lips make it clear that he's joking, and the laughter I've been fighting spills over. "Hey, don't go canceling the we ~ Elle Kennedy

Rach-Uh, my mom says they'll help me blend in better. She says the color would just draw attention to me."
Emma snorts. "Oh, she's definitely right. Blue eyes make you look so much more average. In fact, I almost didn't notice you standing there."
"That hurts my feelings, Emma." He grins.
She giggles.
He says, "I'd consider forgiving you-if you come with me to the beach."
She sighs. "I can't go with you, Galen."
He runs a hand through his hair. "Honestly, Emma, I don't know how much more rejection I can take," he blurts out. In fact, he doesn't remember ever being rejected, except by Emma. Of course, that could be due to the fact that he's a Royal. Or maybe it's because he doesn't spend a lot of time with his kind anyway, let alone the females. Actually, he doesn't spend a lot of time with anyone except Rachel. And Rachel would give him her beating heart if he asked for it.
"I'm sorry. It's not about you this time. Well, actually, it kind of is. My mom...well, she thinks we're dating." Her cheeks-and those lips-deepen to red.
"Dating?" What is dating again? He tries to remember what Rachel told him...She said it's easy to remember because it's almost the same as...what is the rhyme for it? And then he remembers. "It's easy to remember, because dating rhymes with mating, and they're almost the same," she'd said. He blinks at Emma. "You're mom thinks we're ma-Uh, dating?"
She nods biting her lip.
For reasons he can't explain, t ~ Anna Banks

When is a game more than a game? So often, we pay lip service to the uplifting power of sports, the teamwork, the camaraderie, the lessons in taming one's own ego for the sake of the group. But you have to wonder, how often is that still really true? ~ Michel Martin

I didn't shave my mustache off. Instead what I did was taped Elton John's asshole to my top lip and then all of the sudden I had twice the dick in my mouth as before. It was almost more than I could swallow. Almost. ~ Jarod Kintz

And so I was very grateful that I didn't do the British stiff upper lip, but I went straight to a therapist. And she was wonderful and helpful, and I went for about two years. ~ Lynn Redgrave

But in each variant of Socialism that appeared from about 1900 onwards the aim of establishing liberty and equality was more and more openly abandoned. The new movements which appeared in the middle years of the century, Ingsoc in Oceania, Neo-Bolshevism in Eurasia, Death-Worship, as it is commonly called, in Eastasia, had the conscious aim of perpetuating unfreedom and inequality. These new movements, of course, grew out of the old ones and tended to keep their names and pay lip-service to their ideology. But the purpose of all of them was to arrest progress and freeze history at a chosen moment. ~ George Orwell

I promise," she said softly, biting her lip. "I will never shoot you by accident." I considered her response. "That's less comforting than you'd think. ~ Joanna Wylde

Thanks for getting me out of there," I murmur, lacing my fingers around my knees, and looking up at him on his step.
"Yeah. You looked a little green. "
"I don't handle crowds too well. I've always been that way, I guess."
"You might get in trouble," he warns, staring at me in that strange, hungry way that unravels me. He strokes his bottom lip with a finger. For a flash of a second, his eyes look strange. Different. All glowing irises and thin dark pupils. Almost drake-like. I blink to clear my vision. His eyes are normal again. Just my imagination in overdrive. I'm probably projecting missing home and Az - everything--onto him. "Pep rallies are mandatory," he continues. "A lot of people saw you leave. Teachers included."
"They saw you leave, too," I point out.
He leans to the side, propping an elbow on one of the steps behind him. "I'm not worried about that. I've been in trouble before." He smiles a crooked grin and holds up crossed fingers. "The principal and I are like this. The guy loves me. Really."
Laughter spills from me, rusty and hoarse.
His grin makes me feel good. Free. Like I'm not running from anything. Like I could stay here in this world, if only I have him.
The thought unsettles me. Sinks heavily in my chest. Because I can't have him. Not really. All he can ever be for me is a temporary fix.
"But you're worried I'll get in trouble?" I try not to show how much this pleases me. I've managed to ignore him for days n ~ Sophie Jordan

The Italians even have a word for the mark left on a table by a moist glass (culacino) while the Gaelic speakers of Scotland, not to be outdone, have a word for the itchiness that overcomes the upper lip just before taking a sip of whiskey. (Wouldn't they just?) It's sgriob. ~ Bill Bryson

What have you been doing during my absence?'
'Nothing particular; teaching Adele as usual.'
'And getting a good deal paler than you were - as I saw at first sight. What is the matter?'
'Nothing at all, sir.'
'Did you take any cold that night you half drowned me?'
'Not the least.'
'Return to the drawing-room: you are deserting too early.'
'I am tired, sir.'
He looked at me for a minute.
'And a little depressed,' he said. 'What about? Tell me.'
'Nothing - nothing, sir. I am not depressed.'
'But I affirm that you are: so much depressed that a few more words would bring tears to your eyes - indeed, they are there now, shining and swimming; and a bead has slipped from the lash and fallen on the flag. If I had time, and was not in mortal dread of some prating prig of a servant passing, I would know what all this means. Well, to-night I excuse you; but understand that so long as my visitors stay, I expect you to appear in the drawing-room every evening; it is my wish; don't neglect it. Now go, and send Sophie for Adele. Good-night, my..' He stopped, bit his lip, and abruptly left me.
(Jane and Mr Rochester) ~ Charlotte Bronte

Note to self: When noticing flyaway hairs, do not use lip gloss as an 'on-the-go' hair gel. ~ Danica McKellar

But if they thought Blair stripping Furi was hot, Furi leaned in, his forehead pressed against Blair's, his bottom lip clenched between his teeth, slowly popping one of the buttons on Blair's shirt, teasing the guys with more skin, and before they could all calm down from that, Furi gripped Blair's hips and yanked his body into him, dragging his hands up his chest, clamping down on his shoulders and in one skilled move, shoving Blair to his knees. The crowd erupted and God finally had to pry his eyes away and look over at Prescott and Syn. Both of them looked proud and extremely turned on. Blair and Furious together should be fucking illegal. ~ A.E. Via

To science." Ben chuckled and closed the distance between them, brushing his lips across Maddox's for the first time. As per his usual, Maddox was several days past needing a shave, and his cheek was bristly against Ben's hand and his upper lip tickled Ben's. Maddox ~ Annabeth Albert

It was part of war; men died, more would die, that was past, and what mattered now was the business in hand; those who lived would get on with it. Whatever sorrow was felt, there was no point in talking or brooding about it, much less in making, for form's sake, a parade of it. Better and healthier to forget it, and look to tomorrow.
The celebrated British stiff upper lip, the resolve to conceal emotion which is not only embarrassing and useless, but harmful, is just plain commons sense ~ George MacDonald Fraser

Many very intelligent agreeable persons have warts on the forehead, not brown, nor very large, between the eyebrows, which have nothing in them offensive or disgusting. - But a large brown wart on the upper lip, especially when it is bristly, will be found in no person who is not defective in something essential, or at least remarkable for some conspicuous failing. ~ Johann Kaspar Lavater

Tossing it to a corner, he turns back to take my hand. And I'm facing the chest that I've not been able to dislodge from my brain for weeks. The one that instantly makes my breath hitch. The one that I've never had a chance to stare at so blatantly while sober. And I do stare now. Like a deer caught in headlights, I can't seem to turn away as I take in all the ridges and curves.
"What does that mean?" I ask, jutting my chin toward the inked symbol over his heart. Ashton doesn't answer. He avoids the question completely by sliding his thumb across my bottom lip.
"You have a bit of drool there, ~ K.A. Tucker

And now I should kiss you again, I think. Isn't that how it's done?" Startled, she put her hand to her lips. But their rough, cracked surfaces made the very prospect seem ludicrous. "Yes, I suppose - in a gothic romance. But if you kissed me now, no doubt my lip would split open, and I'd bleed on you." His shout of laughter was quickly restrained. "Well, all right. Since you put it so romantically. Someplace else. Shall I be adventurous? ~ Meredith Duran

Beware of those who would pay you lip service but refuse to put their money where their mouths are. ~ Faydra D. Fields