Raspy Quotes

La chiave," the raspy voice replied. "The password. ~ Dan Brown

We've met before you know?"
I look at him a little perplexed and a little hurt that he hasn't mentioned it. I nod my head indicating that, of course, I remember. Then with a low raspy voice I answer, "You remember meeting me and haven't said anything up until now. Why?"
With an equally low voice and the harshness seemingly gone in his tone, he says, "Why haven't you, Dahlia?" He's looking at me with his powerful green eyes and I know there's no seeing the future in them right now. ~ Kim Karr

I've got that nice raspy sound. ~ Wolfman Jack

Tits. Ass. Cock. I know those words, Mason, and I know you think I'm so deeply prissy and vanilla but I'm actually a big girl, so you can go ahead and use them on me."…
"You want it then?" His mutter was raspy and low and his eyes burned so deep into mine I felt paralyzed before he even spoke. "Fine, Taylor," he whispered, pressing his hand down hard on my thigh. "You walked in here and the first thing I thought of was how goddamned good you looked and how bad I wanted to rip that dress off those perfect tits of yours. I thought about what you'd look like in those boots and those boots alone and it turned me into a fucking crazy person for a second because I had some very real thoughts about grabbing you, taking you home and fucking you on my bed till I could hear those pretty lips screaming my name. does that get the point across or do you want to hear just how hard and deep I imagined my cock inside you."
Holy fuck.
Just like that, panties ruined. ~ Stella Rhys

Glad you came," Gally said in his raspy voice. "Because the end of the world is upon us. ~ James Dashner

If there is passion, let me feel its heat.
I want my heart to beat fast,
my breath raspy, my skin to burn. ~ Susie Clevenger

What in the Haven's name just happened?"
Dazed and still trembling from the overload to her senses, Ellysetta floated in Rain's arms, her limp body draped across his, incapable of autonomous movement. She could barely think straight, let alone summon the strength to actually move.
Rain's chest rippled as he dragged in a shuddering breath. "I don't know." His voice came out hoarse, raspy. He swallowed, then tilted his chin against his chest to glance at her. A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth. "But I hope it happens again. ~ C.L. Wilson

Eh? How 'bout that?" Bill nudged her. "Did I promise to show you love or did I promise to show you love?"
"Sure,they seem like they're in love." Luce shrugged. "But-"
"But what?Do you have any idea how painful that is? Look at that guy. He makes getting inked look like being caressed by a soft breeze."
Luce squirmed on the branch. "Is that the lesson here? Pain equals love?"
"You tell me," Bill said. "It may surprise you to hear this,but the ladies aren't exactly banging down Bill's door."
"I mean,if I tattooed Daniel's same on my body would that mean I loved him more than I already do?"
"It's a symbol,Luce." Bill let out a raspy sigh. "You're being too literal. Think about it this way: Daniel is the first good-looking boy LuLu has ever seen. Until he washed ashore a few months ago, this girl's whole world was her father and a few fat natives."
"She's Miranda," Luce said, remembering the love story from The Tempest, which she'd read in her tenth-grade Shakespeare seminar.
"How very civilized of you!" Bill pursed his lips with approval. "They are liek Ferdinand and Miranda: The handsome foreigner shipwrecks on her shores-"
"So,of course it was love at first sight for LuLu," Luce murmured. This was what she was afraid of: the same thoughtless,automatic love that had bothered her in Helston.
"Right," Bill said. "She didn't have a choice but to fall for him.But what's interesting here is Daniel. You see, he didn't have to teach he ~ Lauren Kate

His eyes remained locked on mine and I fought back the tears that were stinging my eyes. "Cooper," I said, swallowing the lump that was forming in the back of my throat, "you know that game where you fold your arms in front of you and fall backward and trust that the person behind you catches you?"

"Yes," he said in a raspy voice.

"You know that feeling you get when you close your eyes and fall back, but right before someone catches you – that split second when you aren't standing up and you aren't lying down – you're in between and all you can do is hope that you didn't make a mistake and trust the wrong person to catch you, but you know it's too late because you've already fallen?" Cooper nodded. "That's how you make me feel. Like I've already fallen and I'm in the in between. My heart is constantly in my throat and I'm suspended in time, waiting for you to catch me. That's what you do to me. Every time you walk in the room. Any room. This is what you do to me. ~ Pamela Sparkman

Jacque leaned over and whispered in Sally's ear, "I give it two days before he lays one on her."
"You're being generous. I say less than twenty four hours."
"Is that a bet?" Jacque asked, eyebrows raised.
"Better believe it," Sally answered. Her lips eased into a crooked smile.
Jen leaned around Sally and glared at her two best friends. "What are you two betting on?"
"Good grief. What, does she have eagle ears or something?"
"No, you dork. Your whisper is just you talking in normal volume but making your voice raspy. Really, you sound more like a chick who's been smoking for thirty years."
Jen shrugged. "I'm just throwing that out there. You can take it and apply it at your leisure."
Fane was chuckling at Jen's words when Jacque elbowed him, causing him to cough."You don't get to laugh, wolf-man."
Jacque turned back to Jen. "Thank you for that observation, Sherlock."
"Always glad to help a friend in need, Watson." Jen grinned at Jacque's irritated look. ~ Quinn Loftis

I'm begging you, for the love of all that's filthy and wrong in this world, have a good time with tall, dark, and raspy, okay? ~ Terri L. Austin

It hurts to cry," she said, her voice raspy.
"It hurts worse not to."
"Did you cry?"
"For four days straight."
"Is that how long it took you to bury them?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said in a voice that sounded like stone grating against stone. ~ Lorraine Heath

Here before you lies the memorial to St. Cefnogwr, though he is not buried here, of course." At her words, an uncanny knowing flushed through Katy and, crazy-of-crazy, transfixed her. "Why? Where is he?" Traci stepped forward, hand on her hip. A you're-right-on-cue look crossed the guide's face. She pointed to the ceiling. Traci scoffed. "I meant, where's the body?" Her American southern accent lent a strange contrast to her skepticism. Again, the tour guide's arthritic finger pointed upward, and a smile tugged at her lips, the smokers' wrinkles on her upper lip smoothing out. "That's the miracle that made him a saint, you see. Throughout the twelve hundreds, the Welsh struggled to maintain our independence from the English. During Madog's Rebellion in 1294, St. Cefnogwr, a noble Norman-English knight, turned against his liege lord and sided with the Welsh - " "Norman-English?" Katy frowned, her voice raspy in her dry throat. "Why would a Norman have a Welsh name and side with the Welsh?" She might be an American, but her years living in England had taught her that was unusual.

"The English nicknamed him. It means 'sympathizer' in Welsh. The knight was captured and, for his crime, sentenced to hang. As he swung, the rope creaking in the crowd's silence, an angel of mercy swooped down and - " She clapped her hands in one decisive smack, and everyone jumped. "The rope dangled empty, free of its burden. Proof, we say, of his noble cause. He's been venerated ever since ~ Angela Quarles

I pulled, allowing her body to slide down mine. I kept my hands at her waist to slow her descent. The shifting of her body against mine was heavenly. She sucked in a breath, and when our faces were level, her eyes were not narrowed, but closed. Her lips weren't pursed, but her bottom lip was caught between her teeth in a way that made my mouth dry. Her cheeks were still flushed, but I had a feeling it wasn't about anger anymore.
"You did that on purpose," she said.
I laughed, and it came out raspy. She wasn't the only one affected by our closeness. "I definitely did that on purpose. I think we should make this a post-show ritual actually. ~ Cora Carmack

Hold onto me baby. I'm going to take care of you. The raspy need in his voice only made me more desperate. ~ Abbi Glines

He ran a finger along her moist slit. "When I come home to you after a week of dealing with fucking Legion," he said, his voice raspy and low, slowing his finger to circle her clit. "You should not be wearing any clothes. At all. ~ Zoey Ellis

While I was deep in my fantasy, in yet another episode of perfect timing, Marlboro Man called from the road.
"Hey," he said, the mid-1990s spotty cell phone service only emphasizing the raspy charm of his voice.
"Oh! Just the person I want to talk to," I said, grabbing paper and a pen. "I have a question for you--"
"I bought your wedding present today," Marlboro Man interrupted.
"Huh?" I said, caught off guard. "Wedding present?" For someone steeped in the proper way of doing things, I was ashamed that a wedding gift for Marlboro Man had never crossed my mind.
"Yep," he said. "And you need to hurry up and marry me so I can give it to you."
I giggled. "So…what is it?" I asked. I couldn't even imagine. I hoped it wasn't a tennis bracelet.
"You have to marry me to find out," he answered.
Yikes. What was it? Wasn't the wedding ring itself supposed to be the present? That's what I'd been banking on. What would I ever get him? Cuff links? An Italian leather briefcase? A Montblanc pen? What do you give a man who rides a horse to work every day?
"So, woman," Marlboro Man said, changing the subject, "what did you want to ask me?"
"Oh!" I said, focusing my thoughts back to the reception. "Okay, I need you to name your absolute favorite foods in the entire world."
He paused. "Why?"
"I'm just taking a survey," I answered.
"Hmmm…" He thought for a minute. "Probably steak."
Duh. "Well, besides steak," I said.
"Steak ~ Ree Drummond

She waited. She waited so excruciatingly long that she could physically feel the time pass; a binding in her chest, her breath shallow and raspy. Silence seemed to stuff itself in her ears like cotton balls. ~ Daniel Younger

I like big men," she said.
Her voice was raspy, like she had a cold. She came up to me and grabbed my arm. Her fingers hurt the muscles. I could smell her perfume. She came close to me. I thought I knew what she wanted. I tried to kiss her. She jerked away.
"No."
"I'm sorry."
She slapped me. She was strong, my cheek stung. She moved in, swinging both arms. Now she had her fists closed. She hit my arms and my chest. I tried to hold her.
"Hit me!" she said.
It was goddam queer. I held her arms, but she got loose.
She struck my chest.
She said: "Hit me."
I hit her easy on the ribs.
"That's right! That's right!" She hit me a couple of hard blows. Her eyes were wild. She hit me a hard punch on the neck. I hit her in the belly. I heard the breath go out: ouf! It didn't stop her. She kept coming in, punching hard.
I gave her one over the kidneys. She grunted and clinched with me. She bit my arm until the blood came. I slapped her. She put her knee in my groin. It hurt. I lost my balance, grabbed for her, and we both went down. We rolled around on the dirty floor of the shack, both panting. She was hard to hold, and every time she got loose she'd hit or kick or bite me. I got over her, holding her down on the floor. She looked beautiful and wild. She bit my arm again and I slugged her in the ribs. She moaned, and then struggled free. My hand caught in the scarlet shirt. The silk tore to her navel.
"Yes," she said.
I got ~ Jonathan Latimer

raspy breaths. She pressed an ear to his chest, ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

My father used to say that there are two kinds of people in the world," Kaladin whispered, voice raspy. "He said there are those who take lives. And there are those who save lives."
Syl frowned, cocking her head. This kind of conversation confused her; she wasn't good with abstractions.
"I used to think he was wrong. I thought there was a third group. People who killed in order to save." He shook his head. "I was a fool. There is a third group, a big one, but it isn't what I thought."
"What group?" she said, sitting down on his knee, brow scrunched up.
"The people who exist to be saved or to be killed. The group in the middle. The ones who can't do anything but die or be protected. The victims. That's all I am. ~ Brandon Sanderson

Talking films revealed [Jean Arthur]'s quirky, remarkable voice: nasal, raspy, querulous - an odd, expressive voice which somehow fit her intense, funny and very smart screen persona. ~ Eve Golden

I don't think I sound like Janis Joplin. I'm a woman with a raspy voice. ~ Brittany Howard

Gradually the earliness of the morning and the cozy warmth of my bedroom got the better of us, and before we knew it we'd sunk into the irresistible softness of my bed, our arms and legs caught in a tangled maze.
"I think I love you," his raspy voice whispered, his lips nearly touching my ear. His arms wrapped even more tightly around my body, swallowing me almost completely. ~ Ree Drummond

Already very near to him, she moved a bit closer. He disengaged his hand and touched her face. Her skin was like silk, and he let his fingers glide along her jawline. Her lips parted, and he noticed the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed more rapidly. His own breath felt shallow and raspy. He leaned down. Before he could let his reason take over, he pressed his lips against hers. A tiny sound escaped her throat, and his mind seemed to leave him entirely. He cupped her cheek in his hand and pulled her mouth full against his. Even ~ Melanie Dickerson

The MRI has a repertoire of noises that resemble, in no particular order: a game-show buzzer for a wrong answer, urgent knocking, a modem from 1992, a grizzly-bear growl, and a man with a raspy voice shouting what sounds like "mother cooler! ~ A. J. Jacobs

What did you - " He swallowed. His voice was raspy. "What did you do to him?"
"Sightseeing. Your turn."
He shivered. "No, that's all right. ~ Steven Gould

What was exchanged in the language of their eyes, more perfect than their lips, the language afforded the soul so that no sound disturbs an ecstasy of feeling? In those moments, when the thought of the two happy beings meld through their pupils, words move slowly, coarsely, like the raspy, awkward noise of thunder from dazzling light that appears after the quickness of the flash. It expresses feelings previously known, ideas yet understood, and in the end, if one must use words, it is because the heart's ambitions - which dominates one's whole being and overflows with happiness - wishes with the whole human organism, with all its physical and psychical faculties, to embody the poem of joy that the spirit has intoned. Language has no answer to the questions of love that either shimmer or hide within a glance. The smile must respond; the kiss, the sigh. ~ Jose Rizal

And that voice. Malick would never say so, because the circumstance that had wrought it had been...rather terrible, but Fen's rough-raspy voice really did things for him. Really did things for him. It kind of made up for the missing braids. Which he also wouldn't say out loud. ~ Carole Cummings

I, Galloran, master of this castle, rightful heir to the throne at Trensicourt, dub thee Lord Jason of Caberton, herby transmitting all rights and priveleges befitting a nobleman of rank and title."
Jason arose, moved by the simple ceremony despite the Blind King's ruined castle, raspy voice, and tarnished crown.
"What about me?" Rachel asked testily.
"You can be my cook," Jason said, unable to resist. ~ Brandon Mull

Resting beside her, he seemed to Ildiko a living statue, carved from dark granite into a form of supple elegance and power. He was beautiful, and the tremor change in her perception of him robbed her lungs of air.
He opened both eyes suddenly, making her jump. Two shimmering gold coins stared at her unblinking. "Good evening, wife," he said in a voice raspy with the remnants of sleep. A closed-lip smile curved his mouth upward and deepened the tiny lines that fanned from the corners of his eyes. "You're staring. Do I have a fly on my nose?"
Fighting down a blush at being caught gawking at her own husband, Ildiko lightly tapped the tip of his nose with one finger. "I was trying to find a way to kill it without punching you in the face. Lucky for you, it flew away. ~ Grace Draven

Almost every time I sang, he did this. I think he enjoyed the sound of my raspy breathing more than the singing itself. ~ Kiera Cass

It wasn't a meaningless act for me either," Marcus said, his raspy whisper tickling her ear. "Yesterday I finally realized that all the things that I thought were wrong about you were actually the things I enjoyed most. I don't give a damn what you do, so long as it pleases you. Run barefoot on the front lawn. Eat pudding with your fingers. Tell me to go to hell as often as you like. I want you just as you are. After all, you're the only woman aside from my sisters who has ever dared to tell me to my face that I'm an arrogant ass. How could I resist you?" His mouth moved to the soft cushion of her cheek. "My dearest Lillian," he whispered, easing her head back to kiss her eyelids. "If I had the gift of poetry, I would shower you with sonnets. But words have always been difficult for me when my feelings are strongest. And there is one word in particular that I can't bring myself to say to you...'goodbye'. I couldn't bear the sight of you walking away from me. If you won't marry me for the sake of your honor, then do it for the sake of everyone who would have to tolerate me otherwise. Marry me because I need someone who will help me to laught at myself. Because someone has to teach me how to whistle. Marry me, Lillian...because I have the most irresistable fascination for your ears. ~ Lisa Kleypas

One night a flock of red-tailed black cockatoos break the quiet as they charge up from the creek, right over the homestead, then down the hill towards Clem's house.
'They're my favourite, you know, of all the birds, they're the best,' comes Tom's raspy whisper.
'I know Dad,' says Clem. 'You always say.'
'They're majestic, dramatic. You wouldn't argue with one. ~ Nicole Sinclair

My voice has always been kind of distinct - even when I was four years old, my mom told me that people would be like, 'Why does your daughter always sound like a chain smoker?' I've always had this deep, raspy voice. ~ Banks

You want to know if that's the only reason I called, Vivian? he asked finally, his voice octaves and octaves lower than Daytime Clark. Raspy, gruff, rough-and-tumble. ~ Alice Clayton

Yeah, I can imagine with the funeral and all, this is the last thing you want to be dealing with right now. Like I said, my condolences." Mayhew took his own deep breath, his far more raspy. "We've got a nutshell, but we're still filling in some blanks. You're not the first person in the county to have this kind of thing happen. We suspect it's a gang of young males who read the obituaries, find out when the funerals are, then Google Earth the house and figure out whether it's worth robbing. ~ Karin Slaughter

I smile. "I thought time was nothing but an illusion."
He takes in a raspy breath. "It was until i got more of it. ~ S.R. Johannes

His hat nudged her forehead, tipping back as he deepened the kiss and drew her closer. His jaw was rough against her palm, and she savored the feel of it before slipping her fingers through the soft waves at his nape and straight up through the back of his hair. His hat hit the ground. "Abby . . ." he whispered. It was a plea, and she gladly answered it with her mouth. She loved the raspy drawl of her shortened name on his lips. ~ Denise Hunter

It was a voice she had heard before, deep and raspy. It made her bones crack and splinter, made her feel the astonishing cold of a winter long since passed. ~ Sarah J. Maas

Celia realized she'd shocked Mr. Pinter when his thick black brows drew together in a frown. His lean form seemed even more rigid than usual, and his angular features-the arrow of a nose and bladed jaw-even more stark. IN his severe morning attire of black serge and white linen, he radiated male disapproval.
But why? He knew she was the only "hellion" left unmarried. Did he think she would let her brothers and sisters lose their inheritance out of some rebellious desire to thwart Gran's ultimatum?
Of course he did. He'd been so kind and considerate during her recitation of the dream that she'd almost forgotten he hated her. Why else were his eyes, gray as slate after a storm, now so cold and remote? The blasted fellow was always so condescending and sure of himself, so...so...
Male.
"Forgive me, my lady," he said in his oddly raspy voice, "but I was unaware you had any suitors."
Curse him for being right. "Well, I don't...exactly. There are men who might be interested but haven't gone so far as to offer marriage." Or even to show a partiality to her.
"And you're hoping I'll twist their arms so they will?"
She colored under his piercing gaze. "Don't be ridiculous."
This was the Mr. Pinter she knew, the one who'd called her "a reckless society miss" and a "troublemaker."
Not that she cared what he thought. He was like her brother's friends, who saw her as a tomboy because she could demonstrate a rifle's fine qualities. And like Cous ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Charlotte Holmes. I thought I might see you here."

The voice belonged to Lord Ingram, but slightly raspy, as if he were under the weather―or recovering from a night of hard drinking.

She turned around slowly. "Hullo, Ash."

A complicated pleasure, this man. ~ Sherry Thomas

His father asked Ethan in a raspy voice, "You spend time with your son?" "Much as I can," he'd answered, but his father had caught the lie in his eyes. "It'll be your loss, Ethan. Day'll come, when he's grown and it's too late, that you'd give a kingdom to go back and spend a single hour with your son as a boy. To hold him. Read a book to him. Throw a ball with a person in whose eyes you can do no wrong. He doesn't see your failings yet. He looks at you with pure love and it won't last, so you revel in it while it's here." Ethan thinks often of that conversation, mostly when he's lying awake in bed at night and everyone else is asleep, and his life screaming past at the speed of light - the weight of bills and the future and his prior failings and all these moments he's missing - all the lost joy - perched like a boulder on his chest. ~ Blake Crouch

She stared at the faded tile floor before her feet, but knew his every step around her small kitchen. When Martin touched the coffee cup patterned curtains he must assume she'd made, her fingers throbbed. When his eyes slid across the flowery aluminum water bottle at the table, her throat cracked with thirst.
The radio clicked off.
The silence of the room soaked up her raspy breaths, her pounding heart, her ache, and stirred them around the one man she ever longed for in a way that changes how you taste the world.
Her desire swirled in a pulsing, betraying, blurry hook, and encouraged him to move closer.
Martin obeyed. ~ Kim Bongiorno

Finally, when they asked him to speak, he found her gray eyes.
His voice was husky and raspy, but his words were clear. "Livia. You love me."
Beckett let her go as she climbed back onto Blake's bed. Blake moved slowly, but he seemed determined and winced only a little as he reached for her shoulders and pulled Livia against his chest. She wanted to say something, but her sobs took those words from her.
His raspy voice moved her hair with his precious, perfect words. "You're here. With me."
Livia grabbed a fistful of his hospital gown. The strength that had sustained her dissolved into gratitude. To see his light, his face, everything that was Blake again brought relief like she'd never known. He rubbed her back as her body shook with sobs. ~ Debra Anastasia

Don't fuckin' do shit like that again, baby," he interuppted in a raspy, hurt voice. There was no anger in is voice, just a desolate crushed roughness. "Cause I ain't wanting to be without you. You hearing me? You're my fuckin' woman. We ride this road together, no matter what gets in our way. ~ Tillie Cole

Hunter walked out of the waves, and without any pretense, he wrapped her in his arms. She looked up at him, her eyes searing his.

He bent his head lower, his voice a raspy whisper. "I've never met anyone like you. ~ Lisa Kessler

Merrill Hartweiss scales a rocky incline toward Renna. The noon sun bakes the hillside as Merrill's boots dig into the broiling sands. Yet another gypsy tune enters his head. It starts off slowly. A lone guitar, its strings strummed with the lustful passion of a young man brushing his fingertips softly against the breasts of his lover. Another guitar joins, like a second hand, exploring her hot flesh, stroking the side of her bare abdomen, and gradually moving upward toward her chest. Then, a female voice joins the guitars; it is slightly raspy, yet sultry; filled with a fiery allure. The guitars pick up in intensity and tempo. There is a rhythmic clapping now, in synchronization with the strumming. The man has entered his lover.

Sweat begins to form on Merrill's forehead, then quickly turns to vapor, dissipating into the blistering heat from the sunlight reflecting off the sands. Steady clapping, louder still. The tempo quickens, progressively and with a vigorous intensity. The man arches his back, cresting then falling; cresting, arching, rising and falling deeper again and again into his lover. The clapping, now faster, still rhythmic, but so much more intense. The guitars keep pace with increasing ferocity. In the woman's voice, short, quick breaths form words as she cries out her lover's name from deep within the throes of a forbidden love ~ Angel Rosa

After several minutes, Ed said, his voice raspy and spent, "You okay, Laur?"
Laurie, his bones melted, his muscles slack, his heart pounding like a happy caged beast against the wall of his chest, his backside throbbing and still half-full of Ed, let out his breath. With great effort, he nodded. ~ Heidi Cullinan

The only place you'll find a map of Blackcliff," a raspy voice intrudes, "is in the Commandant's head. And I don't think you want to go rummaging around in there. ~ Sabaa Tahir

He reached down and fingered his hoodie on the bed. 'You sleeping with this?' His voice grew raspy. I shrugged. 'Maybe.' He growled, wrapped his arms around me, and buried his face in my shoulder. 'You really test my limits,' he said. Then I heard him mumble, 'Already.' 'Your limits?' I asked, pulling back to look at him. 'If you were any other girl, I would already have you naked and beneath me.' His words should have shocked me. Maybe made me angry. They didn't. They turned me on. I shivered with newfound desire. He groaned and sat me aside and stood from the bed. 'You're killing me, Smalls.' 'Smalls?' I giggled. He grinned. 'That's what we call the small players on the team.' 'I'm not on your team.' I pointed out. 'No. But you are mine.'"
"- Romeo & Rimmel ~ Cambria Hebert

Rachel," came a raspy voice from the upper level, and both Trent and I turned. It was Quen, wrapped in a blanket as if it was a death shroud, the black-haired intern at his side, supporting him. His hair was plastered to his skull with sweat, and I could see him wavering as he stood there. "Don't touch Trenton," he said, his gravelly voice clear in the hush, "or I'm going to have to come down there ... and smack you around. ~ Kim Harrison

On the ice, in the Antarctic cold, in the middle of freaking nowhere, his tongue showed her how dirty sex could be, his body made her take it, and that dark, raspy husk of a voice broke in to turn the whole thing up a million degrees. ~ Adriana Anders

(T)here was something in the timbre and inflection of his words that seemed to rummage through a clutter of ancestral fragments to remind me of the person I may have been born to be but had not become. If I didn't take his daily rants against America seriously, it was because it was never really America he was inveighing against, nor was his the voice of a bewildered Middle East trying to fend off a decaying and implacable West. What I heard instead was the raspy, wheezing, threatened voice of an older order of mankind, older ways of being human, raging, raging against the tide of something new that had the semblance and behavior of humanity but really wasn't. It was not a clash of civilizations or of values or of cultures; it was a question of which organ, which chamber of the heart, which one of its clear five senses would humanity cut off to join modernity. ~ Andre Aciman

means. I try not to roll my eyes. I remember women like me can't scream at women like her. I can't grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she listens. I need to cooperate. I need her on my side. I'm already in the negative with her. My build, my skin - shit, even my voice. Brooklyn and I both, since we hit puberty, have deep and raspy voices that can carry across a few rooms. Those Lewis girls sure pack a presence. To the detective, I've already been hysterical. To D.A. Flora Rivers, the next step paints me as someone who overreacts, the step beyond that means I'm unreasonable, then hostile and then I'm the one getting arrested.

(p. 35) Kindle Edition. ~ Rebekah Weatherspoon

Jen leaned around Sally and glared at her two best friends. "What are you two betting on?"
"Good grief. What, does she have eagle ears or something?"
"No you dork. Your whisper is just you talking in normal volume but making your voice raspy. Really, you sound more like a chick who's been smoking for thirty years." Jen shrugged. "I'm just throwing that out there. You can take it and apply it at your leisure."
Fane was chuckling at Jen's words when Jacque elbowed him, causing him to cough.
"You don't get to laugh, wolf-man." Jacque turned back to Jen. "Thank you for that observation, Sherlock. ~ Quinn Loftis

Silence is love just as your raspy voice is a bird. ~ Roberto Bolano

Edgerton/Assassins of Dreamsongs 169

The thick, frosty rain had long since subsided. A thin, fur clad figure peered through the thick, rain soaked foliage, just outside the army's encampment. The old Wizard's raspy whisper suddenly broke the silence. He shivered against the cold and swore to himself, as no eyes peered back at him from the forest. "Damnable rabbits!" He shook both stiff, old legs from the bitter cold of the forest night and from the puddle he had been standing in.

The half-asleep guard paid no attention or tribute to the thin, fur clad bearer of wood, as he trudged through the camp's outer perimeter with a load of firewood in his arms. Slumber played a barbaric tune to the rhythms of the wind through the trees, while the army slept.

Arkin readjusted the stack of wood held precariously in his arms, as he walked through the center of camp. His steady, silent pace took him around large mud puddles and before a roaring fire built beneath a rocky shelf. The large bonfire spit colorful sparks into the blackness and the cold of the night. His thin arms let fall the wood he had gathered, while he surveyed the camp. A long, walking stick suddenly appeared in his hand, as if by magic, while his senses took in all around him.

The small, white haired Wizard leaned lazily on his heavy staff for a thoughtful moment, while his calculating eye took in the figures huddled on the ground around the small campfires.

Edger ~ John Edgerton

If you ever land in a situation you can't handle, call me." She let out a raspy laugh. "And you'll what? Ride in on your white horse and save me? From Afghanistan? Or Iraq? Or wherever else they're sending recently enlisted marines these days?" "Call, email, or send a letter. Hell, send a carrier pigeon. I don't care how you get in touch, or where I am. If you need me, I'll find a way to help. It doesn't matter where I am or what I'm doing. You're like family to me, Josie. And I'm always here for you." "Like family?" She raised an eyebrow. "So you're doing this for Dominic? Because my brother is your BFF?" "No, I'm doing this because I care about you," he growled. She ~ Sara Jane Stone

Stay where you are." It's a raspy male voice. A whiskey voice or just someone who took a hit to the throat hard enough that it never healed right. There are six other guys behind him. All are armed with homemade blades, morning stars, and slings. "Who ~ Richard Kadrey

And she just takes it, drinking me down, sucking my cock with sharp tugs that have me babbling demands. "God, honey, promise you'll marry me one day. I have to have this for the rest of our lives. Forever. Always. Fuck."
She releases me with a long pull, her finger sliding away. My skin prickles. I feel vaguely empty, my body sore in places I don't want to think about. And as she slowly kisses her way up my stomach, I'm still babbling. "Give it to me on Christmas. Birthdays." Her tongue flicks in my belly button. I grunt, my hips twitching. "My days off. Major holidays. Midnight surprises ... " Mac licks my nipple, and I shiver, my voice going raspy. "Twice on Tuesdays. ~ Kristen Callihan

My voice is raspy, like Rasputin's beard. My love is like a mustache hidden in a patch of armpit hair. Come, feel what I feel for you. ~ Jarod Kintz

Katarina wasn't afraid of Baden. Not anymore.

He took a step to the side, intending to move around her. Oh, no. She flattened her hands on his shoulders, keeping him in place.

"I want to know what's wrong with you." She said. "Tell me."

He snapped his teeth at her in a show of dominance. "You think you want to know my problem. You're wrong."

Her tone dry, she said, "I'm so glad you know my mind better than I do."

"Very well. I need sex." He threw the words at her as if they were weapons. "Badly."

Whoa. Blindside!

Heart pounding, she jerked her hands away from him. "Sex...from me?"

"Yesss." A hiss. "Only from you."

Only. Amazing how one little word could send pleasure soaring through her, warming her. "You told me never to touch you." Which she'd just done, she realized. My bad.

"I've changed my mind." His gaze dropped, lingered on her lips.

Burning her... "But you and I...we're a different species." As if that mattered to her body. Gimme!


He took a step closer, invading her personal space. "We'll fit, I promise you."


Tristo hrmenych! The raspy quality of his voice, all smoke and gravel...she shivered with longing. Must resist his allure.

But...but...why? Before she'd committed to Peter, she'd dated around, had made out in movie theaters, cars and on couches. She'd liked kissing and touching and "riding the belt buckle," as ~ Gena Showalter

I roll the covers back up over him and take his hand, noticing how well our palms fit together and thinking back to just after the last time he saved me - when he took my hand and told me that we'd always be together.
I lower my head to his chest and continue to squeeze his palm. Tears fall onto the bedsheets, dampening the fabric just above his heart. "I'm so sorry," I tell him, over and over again.
A few moments later, there's a twitching sensation inside my hand. Ben's fingers glides over my thumb. 'Sorry for what?" he breaths. His voice is raspy and weak.
I lift my head to check his face. His eyelids flutter. The monitor starts beeping faster. And his lips struggle to move.
"Don't try to talk," I tell him, searching for the nurse's call buzzer.
"Please," he whispers, his eyes almost fully open now. "Don't let go."
"I won't," I promise, gripping his hand even harder. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

He gripped the back of her neck again in that purely dominating way that made her melt. "We're finishing this when we get back." His voice was a low, raspy growl. ~ Katie Reus

Do you think about how I look when you kiss me?"
"Yes." His voice was raspy. "I think about your long red hair and you sweet mouth, and the way you little body feels when its pressed up against me, and I just want to put my hands on you. Everywhere. And I forget that I am ugly and alone and confused as hell. ~ Amy Harmon

His raspy voice cut through the blackness, darker than the blackness. 'Mine. ~ Laura Oliva

I don't ask for a miracle," Helmar resumed, "but I do need speed, boldness, and sagacity." He was in the red leather chair beyond the end of Wolfe's desk, with his briefcase on the little table at his elbow. His voice was a raspy oratorical baritone, hard and bony like him. He was going on. "And discretion - that is essential. You have it, I know. As for me, I am a senior partner in a law firm of the highest repute, with offices at Forty Wall Street. A young woman for whom I am responsible has disappeared, and there is reason to fear that she is doing something foolish and may even be in jeopardy. She must be found as quickly as possible. ~ Rex Stout

Keep touching me like that and I'm going to be inside you in another ten seconds," he murmured his voice all rough and raspy, sending shivers down her spine.
"You say that like it's a bad thing. ~ Katie Reus

Ali Woodson was one of the few Iconic Soul-Singers left from the Motown Era that could STILL sell out a crowd, light up a party, & make the women scream! Ali & I have loved, fought, flew & cruised these United States together. His raspy but golden tones will be missed but his music, acting & friendship will last in my heart 4-ever. ~ Luenell

Their raspy kisses brand our jam tart necks, their treacherous miasma clasps our herbal thighs. Motherlessly we surrender, too many fathers we have, we, your daughters of joy. ~ Laura Gentile