Long Legs Quotes

Not to be vain, but I have nice long legs, so I like to accentuate them. Find what part of your body you love most - it can be your arms, your chest, your legs - and emphasize that. ~ Khloe Kardashian

He doesn't move.

Please, I beg him inwardly.

Please go up to bed.

It's hard enough to look at his face each day and not feel heartbreak. I can't be close to him right now. I'm afraid I'll give in and kiss him again. The way his hard body had aligned so perfectly with mine is burned in my consciousness. I'll be trying not to remember that for weeks.

I wait, and I ache.

Finally the door clicks open. I hear him exit the car. When the door slams shut, I feel it like a sledgehammer to the heart.

Don't look, I coach myself.

But my self-control isn't infinite. His fair hair glints under the streetlight as his long legs eat up the walkway in just a few paces. Seeing him walk away from me splinters something inside me. ~ Sarina Bowen

He came back to the car, long legs lifting high in the snow, and there was snow in his hair and on his eyelashes and I remembered that I love him. It felt like something breaking with a little pain and spilling warm. ~ Thomas Harris

He was so conspicuously, irrefutably good-looking, it was silly; it made you want to laugh. With his long legs and his broad shoulders, and the flatness of his belly where his shirt tucked into his trousers, and those dark eyes with the thick black lashes, he looked like a god compared to other Pagford men, who were so slack and pallid and porky. ~ J.K. Rowling

My legs are really long and that's cool apparently, but I'm totally klutzy. I mean, I'm like Bambi. I fall all over myself because I can't control my arms and my really long legs. ~ Taylor Momsen

But what the long walk had not done was reveal the cause of the inherent distaste that had sprung out of nowhere overtaking her there under the tree. On the cold, damp grass, or up against the rough tree trunk. He had done it many times without a second thought, and in more challenging situations. It would have been nothing at all to wrap her long legs around his waist, brace one hand against the tree trunk, hold her tight with his other arm, and give the lady exactly what she wanted.

But for some reason he had not been able to do it. For the first time in his life, his body had been willing but his mind had not. Labeling the experience unpleasant would be a severe understatement. ~ Evangeline Collins

Edie Sedgwick (1943-1971)

I don't know how she did it. Fire
She was shaking all over. It took
her hours to put her make-up on.
But she did it. Even the false eye-lashes.
She ordered gin with triple
limes. Then a limosine. Everyone
knew she was the real heroine of
Blonde on Blonde.
oh it isn't fair
oh it isn't fair
how her ermine hair
turned men around
she was white on white
so blonde on blonde
and her long long legs
how I used to beg
to dance with her
but I never had
a chance with her
oh it isn't fair
how her ermine hair
used to swing so nice
used to cut the air
how all the men
used to dance with her
I never got a chance with her
though I really asked her
down deep
where you do
really dream
in the mind
reading love
I'd get
inside
her move
and we'd
turn around
and she'd
turn around
and turn the head
of everyone in town
her shaking shaking
glittering bones
second blonde child
after brian jones
oh it isn't fair

how I dreamed of her
and she slept
and she slept
forever
and I'll never dance
with her no never
she broke down
like a baby
like a baby girl
like a lady
with ermine hair
oh it isn't fair
and I'd like to see
her rise again
her white white bones
with baby bri ~ Patti Smith

A tiger's DNA is also a 'duplicate me' program but it contains an almost fantastically large digression as an essential part of the efficient execution of its fundamental message. That digression is a tiger, complete with fangs, claws, running muscles, stalking and pouncing instincts. The tiger's DNA says, 'Duplicate me by the round-about route of building a tiger first.' At the same time, antelope DNA says, 'Duplicate me by the round-about route of building an antelope first, complete with long legs and fast muscles, complete with timorous instincts and finely honed sense organs tuned to the danger from tigers. ~ Richard Dawkins

I won't change my legs. because I'm contented with my long-legged. ~ Melanie Marquez

PANG LIVED in an obscure district off On Nuch and to reach his house required a long drive down some narrow dirt tracks. Dust rose up from the ground as Nigel was thrown around in the back like a rag doll.
Eventually they arrived at a row of painted houses and parked outside one painted blue. Nigel stepped out, tidied his hair in the wing mirror then followed Pang to the house. "That's a nice shade of blue."
"I like blue," Pang drawled.
Nigel followed Pang to the front door and watched as Pang fiddled with his keys and connected with the lock. Stepping in, Pang flicked off his shoes and waited for Nigel to do something similar. Pang then pointed upstairs. "We better be quiet; Tuk sleeping."
They crept into the house on tip-toes and just as they were reaching the staircase, a light came on. They froze in their steps. A tall Thai lady stood at the top of the stairs looking down. She had short, brown hair, long legs and high, curvy hips. "I can see you. ~ Simon Palmer

I waited, Rachel. I waited until you were old enough. I wasted my time looking for girls who came even remotely close to looking like you." His hand brushed through my hair as he studied it. "Long legs. Long, straight, near-black hair. Eyes the exact color of sapphires." A heavy sigh left him and his forehead creased. "But none of them were you. None of them had your temper; none of them had your fire for life. So none of them deserved to have your beauty." "Like Jenn." I realized it with dread and watched his face twist with a look of disgust. "Everything I've done up until this point has been for you and our future together. I only wish," he said against my lips, "that you would stop being so goddamn difficult. ~ Molly McAdams

Leaps of faith tend to favour those with long legs. ~ Fennel Hudson

As long as I have my legs and commitment to the team, then I'll keep playing. ~ Aaron Rodgers

Mousy. It was the only word Travis could think to describe Mary Warner when she stepped off the plane. His heart sank and took a moment to rally itself. Long legs, that was all he'd asked for, and what did he get? Minnie Mouse. ~ Debbie Macomber

She's so pretty, isn't she? Beautiful, really. That prefect skin, those long legs. And that hair! It's so black. Black as a raven's feather, that's what my mother used to say. Do you know, Ellie, what a group of ravens is called? [...] It's called an Unkindness. Isn't that strange? An Unkindness. Well... it's something to think about. ~ Amy S. Foster

Sexy is a girl who's comfortable with herself. Long legs are beautiful ... and also a nice neck. ~ Scott Speedman

In the mountains the shortest way is from peak to peak; but for that one must have long legs. Aphorisms should be peaks – and those who are addressed, tall and lofty. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

Some people's joints articulate in a manner that allows them to benefit greatly from squats; others may not benefit at all. If you're not too tall and have short limbs, it may be the best exercise for you, but if you're tall with long legs, it might be both ineffective and dangerous.I was stubbornly faithful to squats for years until I finally realized they were not well-suited for my body structure. After I switched tomore muscle-intensive movements, my gains in leg size were astounding. ~ Dorian Yates

:Well, isn't this cozy?:
Dai is grinning at me. We are packed in so tightly, I realize our shoulders and arms are touching.
:I think I owe that boat captain a favor,: he adds, a gleam of mischief in his dark eyes. :I wouldn't mind if he decided to drive in circles over our heads for the next few hours.:
:I think your muscles would get a little cramped by then: I nod at his long legs, which he's had to bend to fit into our hiding spot.
:The pain would be worth it,: he says, looking at me. I feel my cheeks heat up as I stare back at him. Is Dai actually flirting with me? ~ Polly Holyoke

If I keep looking at her long legs I'm gonna have an accident. "How's that sister of yours?" I ask, changing the subject.
"She's waiting to beat you again at checkers."
"Is that right? Well, tell her I was goin' easy on her. I was tryin' to impress you."
"By losing?"
I shrug. "It worked, didn't it?"
I notice her fidgeting with her dress as if she needs to fix it to impress me. Wanting to ease her anxiety, I slide my fingers down her arm before capturing her hand in mine.
"You tell Shelley I'll be back for a rematch," I say.
She turns to me, her blue eyes sparkling. "Really?"
"Absolutely."
During the drive, I try and make small talk. It doesn't work. I'm not a small talk kind of guy. It's a good thing Brittany seems content without talking. ~ Simone Elkeles

He was sound asleep, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the blessed fire blazing, an empty bottle of wine by his side. He hadn't been shaved recently, and he looked rumpled, dissolute and beautiful. Like
a fallen angel. She moved to stand in front of him and pointed the pistol directly at his heart.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he murmured, and then he opened his extraordinary eyes. "It's always
unwise to shoot the man you're in love with. ~ Anne Stuart

So... Dell had been a good boy with bad friends. I knew this – I used to be one of them. I'd always known Dell would disappear one day; he was too decent, too golden. This place never tainted that, and I don't know why. He made me feel dirty. Dark and corrupt. It hadn't always that way, and I don't know when it changed... but I felt it now. I only knew I couldn't hold onto him tight enough to stop those long legs carrying him away somewhere better.
A day'll come when everybody's had you and nobody wants you anymore...
As Dell drove Erin away in their rent-a-car from the Holiday Inn into the early evening traffic, I felt the walls closing in, the world swelling around me, and I knew that day had finally come. Tomorrow, I leave Paradise. It's true. Shanise was right.
I turned away as the car disappeared up the slushy street.
That was the last time I saw them alive. ~ H. Alazhar

Her bathrobe came off with one sweep, exposing her silky skin, fragrant from the bath. Perfect, he marveled, even as part of him wondered when his tastes had changed so radically. Small breasts, boyishly slender hips, long, long legs.
Mine! On that fierce thought, he proceeded to brand her with his mouth. ~ Norah Wilson

Gathering her bags, Alani started around the side of her house to the front door.
She drew up short at the sight of Jackson sprawled on her porch steps, a cowboy hat on his head, mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes.
He didn't move, and neither did she.
He had an utterly relaxed look about him. But then, Jackson had perfected a deceptively indolent pose that hid razor-sharp reflexes and phenomenal speed.
Last night, all night, he'd been far from indolent.
Breathing fast, Alani studied him. His continued stillness suggested sleep. Even when she inched closer, he didn't move.
He was now clean-shaven. A white T-shirt was pulled across his wide chest and shoulders, and hung looser around his taut abs.
Awareness stiffened her knees.
Memories of touching his body, tasting hit hot flesh, sent a tide of sensation through her veins. She swallowed audibly - and stared some more.
He sat with his long legs loose, one foot braced on a step, the other stretched out, his elbows back, his breathing deep and even.
Alani licked her lips and started to slowly, silently retreat.
"Don't make me chase you, darlin'."
Shock snapped her shoulders back. The big faker! He'd been watching her watch him. Teeth set, Alani asked, "What are you doing here?"
He gave a slow smile. "Whatever it takes . . . ~ Lori Foster

Everyone has a best feature, so find clothes and accessories to accentuate those, whether it's your shoulders or your long legs! ~ Tim Gunn

I like 'em feisty. Especially with that twangy accent you got going on. I'd give my last UFC check to see you in a pair of Daisy Duke shorts. With those long legs, I bet they'd look amazing. ~ Kele Moon

At the same moment, Kate and I drop our beverages and make a mad dash for the door. In the lobby, she pushes the elevator button furiously while I head for the stairs. Genius that I am, I figure I can take them three at a time. I'm almost six-feet - long legs. The only problem with this, of course, is that my office is on the fortieth floor.
Idiot. ~ Emma Chase

Long legs and longer arms, each tipped with a row of black talons. Sinewy. Wiry. And above all, humanoid, its skin in the sunlight as translucent as a baby mouse's - mapped with a network of blue veins and purple arteries and even its heart faintly visible as a pinkish throb just right of center mass. snarling as strings of bloody saliva dangled from the corners of its lipless mouth, creamy eyes hard-focused on its target. ~ Blake Crouch

What were you looking at?"
She pointed to a bright star. "Polaris."
He shook his head, and pointed to another part of the sky. "That's Polaris. You were looking at Vega."
She chuckled. "Ah. No wonder I was finding it unimpressive."
He leaned back and stretched his long legs out. "It's the fifth brightest star in the sky."
She laughed. "You forget I am one of five sisters. In my world, fifth brightest is last." She looked up. "With apologies to the star in question, of course."
"And are you often last?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes. It is not a pleasant ranking."
"I assure you, Pippa. You are rarely last. ~ Sarah MacLean

My mother and my great-aunt told me stories, like how when my grandfather first met my grandmother at a party, he noticed her long legs and was like, 'Woo woo!' I like to incorporate those stories into my music. They just seem to fit. ~ Leon Bridges

A dam inside my own heart opened up, and the feelings of heaviness and unease lifted like wind against the winter sky. I loved him. I loved his slow wit and his gruff demeanor and his tender disposition. I loved his endless empathy and his world-weary cynicism and his innocence. I loved that he was a walking, breathing paradox. I loved his lank hair and his iron earring and the tooth missing at the back of his mouth. I loved the way he laughed, music incomparable to any song, and the way he smiled, like you could see the child in him and the animal in him and the man in him all at once. I loved that he listened to crappy music, the kind that made me want to put my head through a wall, and I loved the charcoal stains on his knuckles and the pencils he tucked behind his ears. I loved that he told me to shut up as though I could actually say anything. I loved that he made me feel as though I could. I loved his short fingers and his rough palms and his long legs and his flat belly. I loved that he liked to read Kerouac but didn't know how to pronounce Kerouac. I loved his brown skin and his blue tattoos and his tempestuous blue eyes. I loved that he loved the land. I loved him. I loved him. Oh, God. I loved him. ~ Rose Christo

There she was, lying on a single bed in a room so small that there wasn't even space for a chair, and the first thing that struck him was that she was beautiful. She had lost too much weight - her long legs were too thin in greasy jeans and her upper body looked as frail as a bird's under a greasy workman's shirt - but her pale and famished face, with its great blue eyes and delicate, thin-lipped mouth, made her look like the heartbreaking debutante her mother might always have wanted her to be. ~ Richard Yates

One does not miss what one has never had. ~ Jean Webster

There is a pernicious notion held by many that being a submissive means being a victim or a doormat. The so-called Fifty Shades phenomenon gives this repulsive lie some very long legs, spreading it far and wide and giving it unwarranted credibility. This fallacy must be exposed for what it is. It is a despicable lie that mischaracterizes and tarnishes millions of good people living a healthy and enjoyable lifestyle. At the same time, it undermines the feminist cause, promotes rape culture, and ultimately revictimizes true victims of the very real problems of sexual abuse and violence in this country. ~ Michael Makai

In faded leathers and boots, he sure wasn't a clotheshorse like Antonio, and he was sure a lot bigger. The brown leather pants clung to long legs, and his vest opened over a thickly muscled chest. His neck was corded, his arms solid. A gold band circled one darkly tanned biceps. His face ... She frowned. All rough lines and craggy bones, he looked like a hard-edged Boromir from Lord of the Rings. His mouth was set in a firm line. And didn't that just figure she'd end up with Boromir? At least Aragorn had a sense of humor. ~ Cherise Sinclair

Bam! The whole truck rocked from Dad slamming his door. A few fast steps with his long legs put him next to Mom. The boys' demeanor flipped from chill to tense. Their sneers vanished, and the strutting stopped. ~ Brenda Vicars

Did you learn the rotation of the border patrols?' said Laurent.

'Yes, our scouts found - '

Laurent was standing in the doorway wearing a chiton of unadorned white cotton.

Damen dropped the pitcher.

It shattered, shards flying outward as it slipped from his fingers and hit the stone floor.

Laurent's arms were bare. His throat was bare. His collarbone was bare, and most of his thighs, his long legs, and all of his left shoulder. Damen stared at him.

'You're wearing Akielon clothing,' said Damen.

'Everyone's wearing Akielon clothing,' said Laurent.

Damen thought that the pitcher had shattered and he could not now take a deep draught of the wine. Laurent came forward, navigating the broken ceramic in his short cotton and sandalled feet, until he reached the seat beside Damen, where the map was laid out on the wooden table.

'Once we know the rotation of the patrols, we'll know when to approach,' said Laurent.

Laurent sat down.

'We need to approach at the beginning of their rotation in order to give us the most time before they report back to the fort.'

It was even shorter sitting down.

'Damen.'

'Yes. Sorry,' said Damen. And then: 'What were you saying? ~ C.S. Pacat

Last night, there was a moment before you got into bed. You stood, quite naked, bending forward a little - talking. It was only for an instant. I saw you - I loved you so - loved your body with such tenderness - Ah my dear - And I am not thinking now of 'passion.' No, of that other thing that makes me feel that every inch of you is so precious to me. Your soft shoulders - your creamy warm skin, your ears, cold like shells are cold - your long legs and your feet that I love to clasp with my feet - the feeling of your belly - & your thin young back - Just below that bone that sticks out at the back of your neck you have a little mole. It is partly because we are young that I feel this tenderness - I love your youth - I could not bear that it should be touched even by a cold wind if I were the Lord. ~ Katherine Mansfield

The light catches his wild, wild hair and holds it. And wham! Suddenly. Just like that. I'm completely conscious of his guyness next to me. His long legs. The way he walks, fluid, easy, like he's made to walk through water But at the same time with purpose, which makes him seem taller than he is. There aren't a lot of guys my age who walk like this. With swagger. It's as if I've suddenly discovered he's male. My face is hot and my back is damp and I'm thinking about Pauline Potter, sexing off all that weight, and I'm staring at his hands... ~ Jennifer Niven

It was inevitable that Flynn would notice her. It wasn't her figure that attracted him, because Beverly is a small-bosomed girl. It was her legs, of course - her long legs in those black net stockings. Later, when Errol and I became good friends, he told me why: "I'm not a breast man," he said. "I'm a leg man. You can't make love to a breast. ~ Florence Aadland

He stood up, those long legs of his stretching out his jeans nicely.

Not that she was staring at his jeans. Much. ~ Carrie Ann Ryan

For me the most interesting thing about Leigh Bowery was the way he used his body as a style statement. He was a big guy, but, because he was tall and had long legs, he looked in proportion - even sexy - -despite being overweight by conventional -standards. ~ Boy George

Every night that he watched over her sleeping form, his urge to protect and take care of her grew. And those weren't the only urges. When she'd throw back the blanket and bare her long legs, it was all he could do not to kneel at her feet, kiss her slim ankles, and slip his hands up her smooth thighs. ~ Amber Belldene

It's our long absence from the city that makes us so popular," Jordan joked, tossing chips into the center of the table.
Ian scarcely heard him. His mind was on Elizabeth, who had been at the mercy of her loathsome uncle for two years. The man had bartered his own flesh and blood-and Ian was the purchaser. It wasn't true, of course, but he had an uneasy feeling Elizabeth would see it that way as soon as she discovered what had been done without her knowledge or consent. In Scotland she'd drawn a gun on him. In London he wouldn't blame her if she fired it. He was toying with the idea of trying to court her for a few days before he told her they were already betrothed, and simultaneously wondering if she was going to hate the idea of marrying him. Belhaven might be a repulsive toad, but Ian had grievously and repeatedly wronged her. "I don't mean to criticize your strategy, my friend"-Jordan's drawl drew Ian's wandering attention-"but you have just wagered $1,000 on what appears to be a pair of absolutely nothing."
Ian glanced down at the hand he'd just turned over and actually felt a flush of embarrassment steal up his neck. "I have something on my mind," he explained.
"Whatever it is, it is assuredly not cards. Either that or you've lost your famous touch."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Ian said absently, stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankles.
"Do you want to play another hand?"
"I don't think I can afford it," Ian joked weari ~ Judith McNaught

When she moved away from him now it didn't stink of retreat. Instead it felt as though she had seized the high ground as she sat gracefully on the ledge of the window. She crossed her long legs and her short dress hiked up another inch. The night sky - vast and open without any tall buildings blocking its reach - seemed to both swallow her and retreat from the immensity of her presence. ~ Armada West

I have very long legs and I hate driving anything unless it's a boat or an ATV in the jungle. I like to sit in the back of a car, where I can look out the window, answer my emails on my iPad, or hold hands with a pretty girl. ~ Jean Pigozzi

Where, then, is any particular gene - say, the gene for long legs in humans? This is a little like asking where is Beethoven's Piano Sonata in E minor. Is it in the original handwritten score? The printed sheet music? Any one performance - or perhaps the sum of all performances, historical and potential, real and imagined? The quavers and crotchets inked on paper are not the music. Music is not a series of pressure waves sounding through the air; nor grooves etched in vinyl or pits burned in CDs; nor even the neuronal symphonies stirred up in the brain of the listener. The music is the information. Likewise, the base pairs of DNA are not genes. They encode genes. Genes themselves are made of bits. ~ James Gleick

You don;t believe me?" He sound wounded, like the thought of me not believing him makes him incredibly sad.
"No."
"Then come with me," he says. He unfolds his long legs and stands up. "To Cooley's. You'll see they just posted the schedule. If I'm lying, I'll buy you a chocolate shake."
"And If you're not?"
"Then I'll still buy you a chocolate shake." He grins at me. ~ Lauren Barnholdt

Girls in New York look like giraffes.
Long neck, long legs, tiny tits and ass.
Girls from L.A rock over sized shades.
And chill all day cause they already paid.
Girls in Miami ... string bikinis and bump techno by Dj Tiesto.
Girls from Detroit like electro
And dance all night till they break they neck yo. ~ Shwayze

My sweetheart, my love, my love, my love - do you know what - all the happiness of the world, the riches, power and adventures, all the promises of religions, all the enchantment of nature and even human fame are not worth your two letters. It was a night of horror, terrible anguish, when I imagined that your undelivered letter, stuck at some unknown post office, was being destroyed like a sick little stray dog . . . But today it arrived - and now it seems to me that in the mailbox where it was lying, in the sack where it was shaking, all the other letters absorbed, just by touching it, your unique charm and that that day all Germans received strange wonderful letters - letters that had gone mad because they had touched your handwriting. The thought that you exist is so divinely blissful in itself that it is ridiculous to talk about the everyday sadness of separation - a week's, ten days' - what does it matter? since my whole life belongs to you. I wake at night and know that you are together with me, - I sense your sweet long legs, your neck through your hair, your trembling eyelashes - and then such happiness, such simmering bliss follows me in my dreams that I simply suffocate . . . ~ Vladimir Nabokov

The man approached. He stood tall, at least six three, maybe six four. Broad shoulders. Long legs in black pants. His black hair fell in a tangled mess on his shoulders. It looked like he might have cut it himself with a knife and then tied a leather cord around his forehead to keep it somewhat pinned. I looked at his face. Handsome bastard. Defined jaw, chiseled cheekbones, full lips. Eyes like black fire. The kind of eyes that jumped from a woman's dreams right into her morning and made trouble in the marriage bed.
He gave me a feral grin. "Like what you see, dove?"
"Nope." I hadn't had sex in eighteen months. Pardon me while I struggle with my hormone overload.
Shave that jaw, brush the hair, tone down the crazy in the eyes, and he would have to fight off women with that crossbow. ~ Ilona Andrews

She finishes the chorus and shuts her eyes again. Her long legs bounce against the rail of the stool to keep rhythm and I fall victim to her siren's song. She has bewitched me. And I want her. She's the one. ~ Georgia Cates

Catching sight of the rotund Levaedet Ringmaster striding through the crowds, high above them on his disproportionately long legs, she allows herself a moment to imagine the smell of Candyfloss mingling with toffee apples and salted popcorn; the screams of laughter from the carousel and Ferris wheel... ~ Trevor Alan Foris

You, it's about bedroom eyes. Fuckin' great hair. Long legs. A tight, sweet pussy that gets so fuckin' wet, swear to Christ, every time I have it, don't know whether to bury my face or my dick in it. Your perfume on my sheets. The way you look at me when I tuck you in bed, like I gave you diamonds, something precious, something you wanna keep safe, something you want forever. Woman like you could get diamonds just crookin' her finger, so a woman like you shouldn't find a man tuckin' you in bed precious. But you do. It's also about you tellin' me you won't take it there with me but, I kiss you, you ignite. Some men like a game. Others like a challenge." His smile got wider. "You found a man who likes a challenge. ~ Kristen Ashley

He snapped some icicles off a branch to make me a martini. He came back to the car, long legs lifting high in the snow, and there was snow in his hair and on his eyelashes and I remembered that I love him. It felt like something breaking with a little pain and spilling warm. I hope the parka ~ Thomas Harris

And now, dear Emma, I'll show you just what you have to be wary of," he said, and his head moved down, blotting out the light.
This was no slow, sensuous caress of mouth and lip. This was no chaste salute, nor was it the wet awkwardness of an untried boy or a randy old man. He opened his mouth over hers and kissed her, using his tongue, his teeth, and all the clever weapons he had in his arsenal.
She told herself she was being kissed by a practiced rake. She told herself it meant nothing, it was a trick, an act, a small skill that anyone could acquire. She told herself that as her body trembled and melted beneath him, as her mouth opened to his skillful insistence. She told herself it meant absolutely nothing as his tongue pushed into her mouth, and the moan that came from deep inside her had to be one of displeasure, didn't it?
It wasn't one kiss, it was twenty, it was a long series of unending kisses, leading one into another, so that she barely had time to begin to regain her sanity when he stripped it away once more. He kissed her eyelids, the side of her mouth, the beating pulse at the base of her neck. He kissed her nose and her chin, he bit her earlobe, and then he covered her mouth once more, kissing her with a devastating thoroughness that had her damp and trembling in his arms.
His hands were on her petticoats, slowly drawing them up her long legs, and her hips cradled him. He was hard against her, she belatedly recognized that fact, and the kno ~ Anne Stuart

Come on. I'll race you.
Before I can respond, she takes off toward the boardwalk. I can't believe she managed to make me feel better. I watch her run, her ponytail bobbing behind her. I know with my freakishly long legs I could easily overtake her, even with her head start. But I don't. Because that's what best friends do for each other. ~ Wendy Mass

I also knew Dell was a good boy with bad friends. I was one of them, and I worried about leading him astray. But in those early years he made me feel cleaner, somehow; like all the shit we'd gone through wasn't so bad. Like I could deal with it, so long as he was by my side. It had always been the way – but still, I was sure Dell would disappear one day. I had nightmares about what I would do if they released him before me on good behaviour, if he should leave me behind in this fucked up limbo of our youth. Nightmares where if I didn't hold on to him, those long legs would take him away somewhere better... ~ H. Alazhar

You speak French and Italian?" Moe lounged back, crossing long legs. "Having been acquainted for years with that beautiful creature known as Latin, I try to savor its ornate, loquacious offspring. Yet the French accent eludes me." Karl smiled. Somehow this big guy with an easy, sliding smile and precise diction made you like him. Presence, that's it. "My wife can help you with that. Have dinner with us." Moe Berg ~ Gregory Benford

JJ glared at his slumbering frame. Long legs, lethal in denim, his button fly already enticingly popped, abdomen all ridged and naked, begging for a finger or a tongue to discover the hills and valleys, dark shaggy hair spread around his head like a freaking halo on her pillow.
Well too damn bad for this broken-down angel. She was the one who'd worked her ass off until two am. Not him.
And she wanted her bed back. ~ Amy Andrews

Just because you have long legs doesn't mean you'll be happy as a Rockette. ~ Nicholas Lore

Maybe I couldn't make it. Maybe I don't have a pretty smile, good teeth, nice tits, long legs, a cheeky arse, a sexy voice. Maybe I don't know how to handle men and increase my market value, so that the rewards due to the feminine will accrue to me. Then again, maybe I'm sick of the masquerade. I'm sick of pretending eternal youth. I'm sick of belying my own intelligence, my own will, my own sex. I'm sick of peering at the world through false eyelashes, so everything I see is mixed with a shadow of bought hairs; I'm sick of weighting my head with a dead mane, unable to move my neck freely, terrified of rain, of wind, of dancing too vigorously in case I sweat into my lacquered curls. I'm sick of the Powder Room. I'm sick of pretending that some fatuous male's self-important pronouncements are the objects of my undivided attention, I'm sick of going to films and plays when someone else wants to, and sick of having no opinions of my own about either. I'm sick of being a transvestite. I refuse to be a female impersonator. I am a woman, not a castrate. ~ Germaine Greer

No, it's very comforting actually, to know that you're sitting in a long legacy of actresses who've played the role. I'm absolutely all for absorbing all of those influences, so you understand the pedigree of the part as much as you understand the figure in history ... because you are playing the part. You don't say: "Gosh, I want to play Peter Sellers ... " because you can sort of do that in your own bathroom. ~ Cate Blanchett

He went up to the globe and gave it a spin. It emitted a faint creak and moved about one inch, bringing into his purview a daddy long legs which had died on it in latitude 44. ~ John Galsworthy

Aryal yawned. She had stretched out on the floor, her long legs crossed at the ankle. She said in a drowsy voice, I could start bitch-slapping people. Sooner or later somebody would squawk. ~ Thea Harrison

Louie killed time by sleeping on Mitchell's navigator table and taking flying lessons from Phil. On some flights, he sprawled behind the cockpit, reading Ellery Queen novels and taxing the nerves of Douglas, who eventually got so annoyed at having to step over Louie's long legs that he attacked him with a fire extinguisher. ~ Laura Hillenbrand

And then there she was, a girl of elegant height, perhaps eighteen or nineteen years of age - gawky and coltish, all long legs and arms, but with the promise of stunning beauty to add graceful curves to the lean lines of her body. She was dressed in a pair of my blue jeans, cut off at the tops of her muscled thighs, and my own T-shirt, tied off over her abdomen. A pentacle amulet, identical to my own, if less battered, lay over her heart, between the curves of her modest breasts. Her skin was pale, almost luminous, her hair a shade of brown-gold, like ripe wheat, her eyes a startling, storm-cloud grey in contrast. Her smile lit up her face, ~ Jim Butcher

In the giraffe with a total height of 5 m., the heart is at a height of about 2.5 m., and it would be extremely interesting to know just how the giraffe avoids the development of filtration oedema in its long legs. ~ August Krogh

People called me 'Slim' and 'Daddy Long Legs.' My best friend Martine named me Daddy Long Legs after she saw me running track. She was making fun of me! ~ Shelley Hennig

Don't provoke Cheat," Arin said as they stepped out of the carriage and onto the dusky path that led to the governor's palace, which looked eerie to Kestrel because its impressive façade was the same as the night before, but the lights burning in the windows were now few.
"Kestrel, do you hear me? You can't toy with him."
"He started it."
"That's not the point." Gravel crunched under Arin's heavy boots as he stalked up the path. "Don't you understand that he wants you dead? He'd leap at the chance," Arin said, hands in pockets, head down, almost talking to himself. He strode ahead, his long legs quicker than hers. "I can't--Kestrel, you must understand that I would never claim you. Calling you a prize--my prize--it was only words. But it worked. Cheat won't harm you, I swear that he won't, but you must…hide yourself a little. Help a little. Just tell us how much time we have before the battle. Give him a reason to decide you're not better off dead. Swallow your pride."
"Maybe that's not as easy for me as it is for you."
He wheeled on her. "It's not easy for me," he said through his teeth. "You know that it's not. What do you think I have had to swallow, these past ten years? What do you think I have had to do to survive?"
They stood before the palace door. "Truly," she said, "I haven't the faintest interest. You may tell your sad story to someone else."
He flinched as if slapped. His voice came low: "You can make people feel so small."
~ Marie Rutkoski

If all superheroines were as indestructible as Superman, leaping across rooftops, smashing through windows, and flying through flames in a skimpy swimsuit wouldn't be such a problem. However, male heroes are usually presented as being unquestionably more powerful than women.Yet, they wear costumes that cover and protect most of their bodies. Women on the other hand, are written as weaker, and presumable less able to protect themselves. Yet they charge into battle with most of their bodies exposed...............................................
...............The reason for this superhero fashion double standard is that comic books have always been primarily targeted to a heterosexual male reader. As a result, female superheroes must look attractive to these readers. And in the world of male fantasy, attractive= sexy. So, revealing costumes are fitted onto idealized bodies with large breasts, tiny waists and impossible long legs. Men need to look powerful and virile, but can't display bulging genitalia showing through their spandex, as it would be too threatening for most straight male readers. ~ Mike Madrid

You're okay," Kat breathed out as she broke free, limping around the side of the table. "I've been so worried." Archer pulled his long legs off the table and rose. A second later, he enveloped Kat in a hug. "I told you to stay where you were. But oh no, you didn't listen." He looked over her head at me. "I totally told her to stay." Luc scowled. "Why didn't I get a hug? ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

I want to undress you, touch you, kiss you, taste you. And then I want you to taste yourself on my mouth." He kissed her again, hot and strong and long. One hand crept to her clothed breast, kneading it. "I want you hard and hot and deep and fast. And then I want you slow and sweet. I want you to wrap those beautiful long legs around me. I want you under me and on top of me and sitting and standing. I want to see your eyes when pleasure makes you light up. I want to hold you when you come down and try to find your breath. I want everything with you, Ellie. I care about you more than I've cared about a woman in so long. I hardly recognized the feelings. I'm dying for you." (Noah Kincaid) ~ Robyn Carr

Yeah. I guess I'm a color-inside-the-lines girl. Worse, really - I'd rather shade inside the lines with a nice, light 4H pencil. Something dark like a 5B or 6B? That's me going nuts. He laughed, stretching out his long legs ~ Jenn Bennett

Edie enters the Factory in her otherworldly daze. She is at once natural and a creation of pure artifice. Everything about her - her tights, her long legs, her high heels, her preternaturally skinny body, her huge eyes - seems to drift upwards as if the cigarette she is smoking were made of helium. ~ David Dalton

A gray V-neck T-shirt hugged his wide shoulders and broad chest, then hung loose over his tight abdomen. a pair of worn Levi's lovingly cupped his generous package, embraced long legs, and broke across the tops of well-worn cowboy boots. Jackson had the type of physique that made a woman's girl parts tingle. She'd have to be dead not to include herself in that party. Especially since her girl parts had been told "No" way too many time sin recent years. ~ Candis Terry

The Letters of Miss Jerusha Abbott to Mr. Daddy-Long-Legs Smith 215 ~ Jean Webster

both had strawberry blonde hair, fair skin and long legs, their personalities were night and day. ~ Allison Goh

I was in the show for 21 days once-the 21 greatest days of my life. You know, you never handle your luggage in the show, somebody else carries your bags. It was great. You hit white balls for batting practice, the ballparks are like cathedrals, the hotels all have room service, and the women all have long legs and brains. ~ Kevin Costner

I think that every one , no matter how many troubles the may have when he grows up, ought to have a happy childhood to look back upon. And if I ever have any children of my own, no matter how unhappy I may be, I am not going to let them have any cares until they grow up. ~ Jean Webster

An animal?" Thorne said, and she realized he'd been waiting for her to further explain what she was seeing.
"It has long legs and horns and ... and it's beautiful."
"Oh, good, we're back to this, then. ~ Marissa Meyer

The silhouette is the most important thing in clothes. Every French girl knows that. High-waisted trousers give you long legs and a pretty bum which, after all, is what we all want. ~ Lou Doillon

I had ordered long legs, but they never arrived. My eyes are weird too, one is gray and the other is green. I have a crooked smile and my nose looks like a ski slope. No, I would not win a Miss contest. ~ Jane Seymour

the gorgeous blonde with long legs and a body like a Playboy pin-up" Carla Ferrari, P.I. ~ Cynthia Westland

Someone stepped through the garage doorway. I squinted against the light. Mad Rogan.
He wore a dark suit. It fit him like a glove, from the broad shoulders and powerful chest to the flat stomach and long legs. Well. A visit from the dragon. Never good.
He started toward me. The track vehicle on his left slid out of his way, as if pushed aside by an invisible hand. The Humvee on his right slid across the floor. I raised my eyebrows.
He kept coming, his blue eyes clear and fixed on me. I stepped back on pure instinct. My back bumped into the wall.
The multiton hover tank hovered off to the wall. So that was the secret to making it work. You just needed Mad Rogan to move it around.
Rogan closed in and stopped barely two inches from me. Anticipation squirmed through me, turning into a giddy excitement spiced with alarm.
"Hi," I said. "Are you planning on putting all of this back together the way you found it?"
His eyes were so blue. I could look into them forever. He offered me his hand. "Time to go."
"To go where?"
"Wherever you want. Pick a spot on the planet."
Wow. "No."
He leaned forward slightly. We were almost touching. "I gave you a week with your family. Now it's time to go with me. Don't be stubborn, Nevada. That kiss told me everything I needed to know. You and I both understand how this ends."
I shook my head. "How did this encounter go in your head? Did you plan on walking in here, picking me up, and carryin ~ Ilona Andrews

I lost the letter in rather embarrassing circumstances. We were to dine at Parramatta Government House that same evening, and Peter had come in early from harvesting the wheat, sitting down in all his dirt to read the precious missive. I sat beside him, fresh from my bath. And so handsome did my husband look, long legs sprawled in Dungaree trousers and frowning over my father's spiky hand, that I could not resist reaching out to smooth away the frown. He caught my hand to his lips, still reading, and then chancing to look up, and reading my face more swiftly than he would ever read the written word, pulled me onto his lap. ~ Jennifer Paynter

He'd had to fold his long legs into his desk. His boots had seen better days, and his jeans unraveled in a curiously irresistible way at the bottom. He didn't look like anyone I'd ever seen before. He reminded me of an actor in an old Western - Rock Hudson in Giant - all dark intensity. ~ Laura Anderson Kurk

He stood looking up at her; it was not a glance, but an act of ownership. She thought she must let her face give him the answer he deserved. But she was looking, instead, at the stone dust on his burned arms, the wet shirt clinging to his ribs, the lines of his long legs. She was thinking of those statues of men she had always sought; she was wondering what he would look like naked. She saw him looking at her as if he knew that. ~ Ayn Rand

I am glad I sleep fully clothed, because Christina stands next to our bunk wearing only a T-shirt, her long legs bare. She folds her arms and stares at Eric. I wish, suddenly, that I could stare so boldly at someone with hardly any clothes on, but I could never do that. ~ Veronica Roth

But I cannot be worrying-worrying all the time about the truth. I have to worry about the truth that can be lived with. And that is the difference between losing your marbles drinking the salty sea, or swallowing the stuff from the streams. My Niece-of-Shame believes in the talking cure, eh?" says Alsana, with something of a grin. "Talk, talk, talk and it will be better. Be honest, slice open your heart and spread the red stuff around. But the past is made of more than words, dearie. We married old men, you see? These bumps"
Alsana pats them both
"they will always have daddy-long-legs for fathers. One leg in the present, one in the past. No talking will change this. Their roots will always be tangled. And roots get dug up. Just look in my garden - birds at the coriander every bloody day ... ~ Zadie Smith

Looking up, I stare into the most unique and beautiful shade of blue that a pair of eyes has ever possessed. Of that I am certain. Blue just shouldn't be that multi-faceted and twinkling. There should be a law or something.
Or at least a warning label:
Caution, these eyes may cause female knees to tremble.
Looking up, I stare into the most unique and beautiful shade of blue that a pair of eyes has ever possessed. Of that I am certain. Blue just shouldn't be that multi-faceted and twinkling. There should be a law or something.
Or at least a warning label:
Caution, these eyes may cause female knees to tremble.
Before I can help it, I scan the rest of him. Sweet Mary. This guy had lucked out in the gene department. Tall, slender, beautiful. Honey colored hair that had natural highlights that could even catch the crappy airport light, broad shoulders, slim hips, long legs. He is tan and golden with a bright, white smile.
I am surely staring at Apollo, the god of the sun. ~ Courtney Cole

Leo gave her one more smile, and it was so full of joy that her heart skipped a beat. Then he turned around and strode off, his long legs eating up the distance toward the elevator bank around the bend.

"Come back to me, George," Becca said. "Don't go toward the light."

"What?"

"Exactly." Becca snapped her fingers. "Stay with me, babe. Don't let the hottie who stole your virginity send you into zombieland. ~ Sarina Bowen

I have a completely new knee. It's brilliant. I am not feeling my age at all. I feel about 43, a willowy blonde 43 years old with long legs. ~ Judi Dench

Just the sight of him sent pleasure shooting through me. I might be reluctant to get emotionally involved with anyone right now, but I was still a wolf, and still capable of admiring a good-looking man. Kade was that, and a whole lot more. He was a horseshifter, and his coloring was that of a bay
a rich, mahogany bay that came complete with jet black hair and wicked, velvet-brown eyes. And he was built like a thoroughbred, with broad shoulders, slim hips, and those wonderfully long legs. Legs that could hold a girl just in the right place as she drove him deeper and harder inside.
excert from Darkest Kiss ~ Keri Arthur

Hilary glanced up at Joe with a bright smile, which she then turned toward me. I wished I had ten-foot-long legs so I could kick her. ~ Denise Grover Swank

Woe is Merit, the immortal vampire with the never-gray hair and long legs and hot blond boyfriend. ~ Chloe Neill

Everything about you fascinates me, Sophie. The smell of your skin. The sound of your voice. Your long legs. Your sense of humor. Your personality. You don't seem to need me, and if you don't need me, it is much more gratifying that you want me. ~ Elisa Marie Hopkins

Markus definitely wasn't comfortable. He was sorry about having long legs; as regrets go, it certainly was a useless one.* Not to mention another fact that amped up his torture: there's nothing worse than being seated next to a woman you're dying with desire to look at. The show was to his left, where she was, not on stage. Not only that, but what was he seeing? It was so-so. The fact that it was a Swedish play wasn't exactly helping matters! Had she done it on purpose? As if that weren't enough, the playwright had studied in Uppsala. Might as well have dinner at his parents'. ~ David Foenkinos

And he was athletic in a lean sort of way, his long legs able to keep up with me whenever I coerced him into driving me out to the zoo for their early open hours for runners only; those hills were killers on the calves. ~ Kim Harrison

What did I do now?" He reluctantly pulled the car the curb.

I needed to get out of this car – like now. I couldn't breathe.

I unbuckled and flung open the door.

"Thanks for the ride. Bye."

I slammed the door shut and began down the sidewalk. Behind me, I heard the engine turn off and his door open and shut. I quickened my stride as James jogged up to me. I slowed down knowing I couldn't escape his long legs anyway. Plus, I didn't want to get home all sweaty and have to explain myself.

"What happened?" James asked, matching my pace.

"Leave me alone!" I snapped back. I felt his hand grab my elbow, halting me easily.

"Stop," he ordered.

Damn it, he's strong!

"What are you pissed about now?" He towered over me. I was trapped in front of him, if he tugged a bit, I'd be in his embrace.

"It's so funny huh? I'm that bad? I'm a clown, I'm so funny!" I jerked my arm, trying to break free of his grip. "Let me go!"

"No!" He squeezed tighter, pulling me closer.

"Leave me alone!" I spit the words like venom, pulling my arm with all my might.

"What's your problem?" James demanded loudly. His hand tightened on my arm with each attempt to pull away. My energy was dwindling and I was mentally exhausted. I stopped jerking my arm back, deciding it was pointless because he was too strong; there was no way I could pull my arm back without first kneeing him ~ Sarah Tork