Groan Mumble Moan Quotes

As iAm cracked the door to his brother's room, the poor bastard's suffering stained the very air, making it hard to breathe - and even see properly.
Then again, everything was dark by design.
"Trez?"
The moaned answer was nothing good, a combination of wounded animal and sore throat from throwing up.
iAm lifted his wrist into the light streaming in from behind and cursed at his Piaget.
By this time, the SOB should have been solidly in recovery, his body digging itself out of the headache hole that had swallowed him. Not the case.
"You want something for your stomach?"
Mumble, mumble, groan, mumble?
"Okay, I'm sure they've got some."
Mumble, moan, moan. Mutter, mutter.
"Yeah, that, too. You want some Milanos?"
Mmmmmmmmmoan.
"Roger that. ~ J.R. Ward

I walk away, feeling Brody's gaze on me. There's no doubt that as soon as we get back in the car, I'm going to get it - good.

Instead, Brody stays quiet while I assemble the paperwork. He may not be speaking, but he's saying a whole lot in the silence.

"Just say it," I mumble and finally look over.

"I'm not saying a word." He raises his hands. "Clearly, you two know each other, and it ain't from growing up here. You tell me everything, so there is no way you wouldn't have told me you know him," Brody pauses and leans back. "I'm not saying a word about who you may or may not have slept with recently. Even though, it's pretty obvious."

"You know, you not saying a word took you a long time."

"It's not like you've had a five-year drought since your divorce. Or that you slept with a singer/actor. Nope. I have nothing to say about that. Not a thing."

I groan. "Could you not say anything for real this time?"

"Sure thing, boss. I'll just be over here, watching Hell start to thaw."

This is not going to get any better. I'd almost rather hear the questions. This is Brody Webber. My partner, my friend, and the one person who I have enough dirt on to make his life hell if he repeats this.

"Okay, fine. Yes, I slept with Eli Walsh. I was crazy and dumb. I also had about six beers, which is two over my threshold, and I was trying to be in the moment for once. Fucking Nicole and her pep talks."< ~ Corinne Michaels

O, if I say, you look upon this verse,
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay;
Lest the wise world should look into your moan,
And mock you with me after I am gone. ~ William Shakespeare

You've got the wrong girl."
"On the contrary ... " the voice murmured, "I've got exactly the girl I want." Her body turned to ice. Her mind fought for calm. There were people only yards away, yet she was alone ...
"You're bleeding." Lips closed over hers. A kiss so passionate that time faded and stopped ... so passionate, it sucked her breath away ... Searing heat swept through her- pain and pleasure throbbing through her veins. With a helpless moan, she leaned into him and realized with a shock the kiss had ended. ~ Richie Tankersley Cusick

I want to take my time with you - to learn ... every inch of you. And this apartment has very, very thin walls. I don't want to have an audience" he added as he leaned down again, brushing his mouth over the cut at the base of her throat, "when I make you moan, Aelin. ~ Sarah J. Maas

As a documentary filmmaker, I'm very respectful, and my interview style is not intrusive. I don't really have an agenda. I just go in there, I mumble something or other, I wait for them to speak, and I wait for them to stop. ~ Tony Kaye

True blues ain't no new news about who's been abused
For the blues is as old as my stolen soul
I sang the blues when the missionaries came
Passing out bibles in Jesus' name
I sang the blues in the hull of the ship
Beneath the sting of the slavemaster's whip
I sang the blues when the ship anchored the dark
My family being sold on a slave block
I sang the blues being torn from my first born
And hung my head and cried when my wife took his life
And then committed suicide.
I sang the blues on the slavemaster's plantation helping
Him build his free nation
I sang the blues in the cottonfield, hustlin' to make the daily yield
I sang the blues when he forced my woman to beg
Lord knows how I wished he was dead
I sang the blues on the run, ducking the dogs and dodging the gun
I sang the blues hanging from the tree in a desperate attempt to break free
I sang the blues when the sun went down, cursing the master when he wasn't around
I sang the blues in all these wars dying for some unknown cause
I sang the blues in a high tone, low moan, loud groan, soft grunt, hard funk
I sang the blues in land sea and air, about who when why and where
I sang the blues in church on sunday, slaving on monday, misused on tuesday, abused on wednesday, accused on thursday, fried alive on friday, and died on saturday.
Sho nuff singing the blues
I sang the blues in the summer, fall winter ~ Jalal Mansur Nuriddin

But today I would suggest you ponder these verses from Ecclesiastes: "And he would have seven flights of madness in his soul, who, having hung his clothes beneath the sun, would groan at the hour of rain, ~ Arthur Rimbaud

He was quite possibly the most desirable man she had ever had the good fortune to lay her eyes upon and she had to meet him like this. Life was not fair. A groan of frustration left her lips as her body began to heat once more, blood pumping furiously through her. Oh no, she thought, this cannot be happening yet again. Gritting her teeth she tried to quell her reaction. ~ C.P. Mandara

Unfortunately complaining is one thing Eeyores are not afraid to do. They grudgingly carry their thimbles to the Fountain of Life, then mumble and grumble that they weren't given enough. ~ Benjamin Hoff

All conversation had stopped. Following the guests' collective gazes, Cam saw something - a lizard? - wriggling and slithering its way past sauceboats and salt cellars. Without hesitation he reached out and captured the small creature, cupping it in closed hands. The lizard squirmed furiously in the space between his closed palms.
"I've got it," he said mildly.
The vicar's wife half fainted, slumping back in her chair with a low moan.
"Don't hurt him!" Beatrix Hathaway called out anxiously. "He's a family pet!"
The assembled guests glanced from Cam's closed hands to the Hathaway girl's apologetic face.
"A pet?… What a relief," Lady Westcliff said calmly, staring down the length of the table at her husband's blank countenance. "I thought it was some new English delicacy we were serving."
A swift wash of color darkened Westcliff's face, and he looked away from her with fierce concentration. To anyone who knew him well, it was obvious he was struggling not to laugh. ~ Lisa Kleypas

But the more time I spend with you . . . the more like you I become." He pulls back and I'm left with that heavy, yet strangely flattering, confession. I'm not sure what I should say. So I awkwardly mumble, "Well, be prepared to become totally awesome. ~ Karina Halle

It was obvious that their sorrows were conjoined. ~ Mervyn Peake

A backslider, if there be a spark of life left in him will groan after restoration. No man can be renewed without as real and true a manifestation of the Holy Spirit's energy as he felt at first, ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon

Eating is not a pleasant business. I chew off a man's arm, and I hate it.
Of course if I don't eat all of him, if I spare his brain, he'll rise up and follow me back to the airport, and that might make me feel better. I'll introduce him to everyone, and maybe we'll stand around and groan for a while. ~ Isaac Marion

Ahem. Dear Jesus," Taylor intoned more fervently. "We just want to thank you for gettin' us here safe
"
There was a loud, gurgling groan. Somebody shouted, "Oh my gosh! Miss Delaware just died!"
"
for gettin some of us here safe," Taylor continued. "And we pray that, as we are fine, upstandin', law-abidin' girls who represent the best of the best, you will protect us from harm and keep us safe until we are rescued and can tell our story to People magazine. Amen."
- "Beauty Queens ~ Libba Bray

I'm not going to be gentle, because we both know you don't want gentle. I'm going to torment you until you're stiff and aching - until even the whisper of my breath on your skin makes you moan. ~ Samanthe Beck

...experience has proved the distinction of active and passive courage. The fanatic who endures without a groan the torture of the rack or the state would tremble and fly before the face of an armed enemy. ~ Edward Gibbon

He took her lips with a wicked kiss, a growl rolling deep as he moved carefully, slowly pulling out until he was nearly gone from her, then rocking back into her gently, over and over, his thumb working against her, ensuring her pleasure even as he wondered if he would be able to hold his at bay.
"Michael," she whispered, and he met her gaze, worried that he might be hurting her. He stilled.
She arched her back. "Don't stop. Don't stop moving. You were right..." Her eyes drifted closed, and she gave a moan of pleasure as he sank into her with one long stroke. He thought he might lose control at the sound of that moan, low and beautiful, at the back of her throat, but he did not stop.
She shook her head, her hands running over his shoulders and down his back, finally coming to rest on his buttocks, clasping in time to his movements, to the stroke of his thumb. "Michael!"
It was happening to him, too.
He'd never given much thought to timing his release to his partner's. He'd never cared to share the experience. But, suddenly, he could think of nothing but meeting Penelope there, on the edge of her pleasure, and letting it crash over both of them. "Wait for me," he whispered at her ear, thrusting against her. "Don't go without me."
"I can't wait. I can't stop it!" She convulsed around him, milking him in a rapid, stunning rhythm, his name on her lips sending him into oblivion, tumbling over the edge in a terrifying, extravagant climax that rivaled a ~ Sarah MacLean

Dickward had the kind of smirk that would make women moan his name even when he was in another continent. He was happily married to Emilia LeBlanc-Spencer and strictly off the market. Shame they rocked the happily-in-love vibe. ~ L.J. Shen

He was right! Said you'd go straight after 'em, sword and knife. What's with you?"
"You said, 'A trap.' I thought it was them," I muttered through suddenly numb lips. "Wasn't it?"
"Didn't you see the riding of greeners?" Bran retorted. "It was Debegri, right enough. He had paid informants in those inns, for he was on the watch for your return. Why d'you think Vidanric sent the escort?"
"Vidanric?"
"His name," Branaric said, still staring at me with that odd gaze. "You could try to use it--only polite. After all, Shevraeth is just a title, and he doesn't go about calling either of us Tlanth."
I'd rather cut out my tongue, I thought, but I said nothing.
"Anyway--life, sister--if he'd wanted me dead, why not in the comfort of his own home, where he could do a better job?"
I shook my head. "It made sense to me."
"It makes sense when you have a castle-sized grudge." He sighed. "It was the Renselaeus escort, hard on their heels, that attacked Debegri's gang and saved my life. Our friend the Marquis wasn't far behind--he'd just found out about the spies, he said. Between us we pieced together what happened, and what I said, and what you'd likely do. I thought you'd stay home. He said you'd ride back down the mountain breathing fire and hunting his blood. He was right." He stared to laugh, but it came out a groan, and he closed his eyes for a long breath. Then, "Arrow clipped me on the right, or I'd be finished. But I can't talk long--I'm alrea ~ Sherwood Smith

God looked peaceful right now; Day hoped it was because of him that he'd not had a nightmare. He watched for a few more minutes before his admiration of God's beautiful body turned into intense lust and need. His cock was hard and ready for attention. Day slid down beneath the covers and leaned over God's semi erect dick. He licked his lips before taking all of it into his mouth. Finally. Day released a moan of contentment and licked around the head of the delicious cock before sliding back down to the base. Day had no gag reflex and he loved giving head as much as he loved fucking. He felt a large palm on his cheek and now that God was awake, increased the suction. God moaned and spread his legs, allowing Day room to climb between them. "Good ~ A.E. Via

She fell asleep rapidly, swimming through a haze of pleasant images... walking through the forest in Hampshire... dangling her feet in a cool pond on a hot day... pausing in the kissing gate, while the smell of sun-warmed meadowsweet rose thickly to her nostrils. She closed her eyes and tilted her chin upward, relishing the sultry rays, while a butterfly's wings brushed lightly against her cheek. Entranced by the delicate tickle, she held very still. The silken strokes moved over the tip of her nose, the sensitive periphery of her upper lip, the tender corners of her mouth.
Searching blindly, she lifted her face to the brushes of warmth and was rewarded by a gentle pressure that opened her lips and drew a moan from the upper part of her lungs. Lord Sydney was standing with her in the kissing gate, his arms trapping her against the painted ribs of latticework. His mouth searched hers so gently, his body firm against hers, and she writhed in a mute plea for him to hold her more tightly. Seeming to know exactly what she wanted, he pushed his knee into her skirts, right against the place that felt swollen and yearning. Gasping, she curled her fingers in his glossy hair, and he whispered for her to relax, that he would take care of her, satisfy her-
"Oh." Blinking hard, she stirred from the sensuous dream as she realized that she was not alone. The bed curtains had been drawn aside, and Nick Gentry's long body was entangled with hers. One large hand was cupped beneath he ~ Lisa Kleypas

God gave women 2 sets of lips, that way she can piss and moan at the same time. ~ Melody Parks

A lang, lang time ago ... " MacPhee began, ignoring St.Vincent's low groan, "there was a bonnie maid called Malvina. She was the betrothed of Oscar, the braw warrior who won her heart. Oscar bade his beloved tae wait for him while he went tae seek his fortune. But one black day Malvina received word that her lover had been killed in battle. He would lie forever in eternal rest in the faraway hills ... lost in endless slumber ... "
"God, I envy him," St. Vincent said feelingly, rubbing his own dark-circled eyes. ~ Lisa Kleypas

We are the voices of the wandering wind,
Which moan for rest and rest can never find;
Lo! as the wind is so is mortal life,
A moan, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife. ~ Edwin Arnold

Okay, listen up, people," Kieran raised his voice so that it was all gravelly and impressive. I wasn't particularly impressed since we'd grown up together and I'd force-fed him mud pies when we were little, but it seemed to work on everyone else. Lia actually sighed.
Only a thirteen-year-old vampire hunter would get a crush in the middle of a vampire attack.
I was a little bit proud of her actually.
His grin widened and he nudged my shoulder companionably. "I like you, kid." (Quinn)
I tried not to groan out loud. I was as bad as Lia.
I had totally developed a crush during a vampire raid. ~ Alyxandra Harvey

Lorcan heard the moan of the soldier pinned to the floor beneath his boot. With a sneer, he pushed his foot down harder on his neck. The worthless little bastard had failed him. He'd come back without the bitch.
He glanced over his shoulder at his lieutenants. They watched him, trying their best to hide their fear. But he could smell it. He looked back at the lowering suns. "I want my sister." He growled the words low. "I want my sister!" He slammed his foot down, snapping the man's neck and crushing his jaw. "Now get out of my sight!"
He heard them run from the room.
They better run.
He would have his sister. He would see the bitch dead if he had to destroy half the world to get to her. ~ G.A. Aiken

Doan be scared, bébé," he rasped with a brief kiss to my lips. "I'm goan to take care of you." Staring down into my eyes, he began prodding deeper. "I've wanted you for so long." And deeper. "My God, woman!" When he was all the way in, a strangled groan burst from his chest.

Pain. I just stifled a wince, far from enamored with this.

Voice gone hoarse, he said, "You're mine now, Evangeline. No one else's."

He must be right - because Death's presence had disappeared completely.

Jack held himself still, murmuring, "Doan hurt, doan hurt."

"It's getting better."

"Ready for more?"

I nodded. Then regretted it. Pain.

Between gritted teeth, he said, "Evie, I got to touch you, got to kiss you. Or you woan like this." A bead of sweat dropped from his forehead onto my neck, tickling its way down to my collarbone.

"O-okay."

Still inside me, he raised himself up on his knees, his damp chest flexing. His hands covered me, cupped, kneaded, his thumbs rubbing. When I started arching my back for more, his body moved. And it was . . .

Rapture.

"Jack! Yes!"

In a strained tone, he said, "God almighty - I am home, Evangeline." Another thrust had me soaring. "Finally found the place . . . I'm supposed to be."

He leaned down, delivering scorching kisses up my neck and down to my br**sts, bringing me closer and closer to a just-out-of-reach peak.
Kresley Cole

Rodney Crowell says. "I went over, and we sat at the table, and Guy had a bottle of Johnny Walker Red, a quart, and he was hurting. He was drinking whiskey. When the pain is so deep, it's that moan, it's that timeless moan, and pain. Susanna was - that conversation was, 'You know, it's over.' She was just saying, 'It's over.' Guy was just trying to deal with the pain. Susanna surrendered something that night, as far as I could tell." Her ~ Tamara Saviano

Home again, I can groan, scratch, and talk to myself. ~ Mason Cooley

Sometimes I can only groan, and suffer, and pour out my despair at the piano! ~ Frederic Chopin

Well, and there is the end of our little drama," I remarked, after we had sat some time smoking in silence. "I fear that it may be the last investigation in which I shall have the chance of studying your methods. Miss Morstan has done me the honour to accept me as a husband in prospective."
He gave a most dismal groan. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle

Risk is important to me as a writer, reader, and editor. I love stories that take a premise or style that seems unlikely to succeed, whose first paragraphs risk a raised eyebrow or groan, and whose last paragraphs are then all that much sweeter a triumph. Basically, I love being proved wrong. ~ Caitlin Horrocks

Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me; Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be? ... ~ William Shakespeare