Tongue And Hand Tied Quotes

Tongue and hand tied. It cut me off, trapped and held me within my own silent dark word tomb. ~ Jazz Feylynn

I hesitate, hand on my seatbelt buckle. I know I need to get going somewhere, but - well, what's the harm in scoping the area out? Making sure it's as safe as Remy seems to think it is?
"All right, Remy," I say, opening the door.
"Remy," he shoots back. "Jesus, you can't even remember my name? The sewers weren't kind to you, were they?"
"Wait - what?" I ask, shutting the door, locking it. No one's taking my Lucy.
He just looks exasperated, which just makes me confused.
"You called me Ruby," Remy said, indignantly.
I stare at him. There's a flutter of something wild, panicked in my chest I don't understand and I don't particularly want to examine. I'm tired and when I'm tired my tongue gets lazy. "Sorry. Tired. Idiot. ~ Alexandra Bracken

I have begotten them and I have reared them but I have no comments to make and no advice to give. I do not know if I have done them good or ill. I do not know whether, in their own generation, they will do well or badly; I cannot even guess whether they will build because of me or in spite of me. I know only that they will build elsewhere, and that I have here no continuing city. I can barely live with my children, yet I must shortly and inconceivably live without them. I have hardly known them, hardly begun to walk in the streets of their minds and the gardens of their pleasures, hardly explored with them the city that they are, and already they begin to go their ways and to take my city with them. My exile comes implacably. By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept when we remembered thee O Sion. If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth. I am absurd, I know; but it is the infirmity in which I glory. ~ Robert Farrar Capon

He'd also gotten close to Prophet, moving next to him to get the right angle on the cast, his hip brushing Prophet's cock. And now his own had a more pressing need than covering up phone numbers. The light dappled across Prophet's face. He looked more relaxed, less on guard than he'd ever been. But somehow still lethal. Always lethal. Prophet turned onto his back, arms over his head again, casts sprawled on the pillow. Tom's erection nudged Prophet's thigh as he thought about Prophet tied up, and Prophet shook his head. "Did you take Viagra instead of migraine meds?" "Maybe," Tom murmured, wrapped a hand around Prophet's cock, which was hard again too. ~ S.E. Jakes

His lips parted under hers, damp and soft and warm, and she forgot all of that. Her entire life focused in on the sensations, the gentle pressure that grew more intense the longer the kiss went on.
Chaste kisses, then dirtier ones, and man, those tasted good. They tasted better the wider her mouth opened, and especially after his tongue touched hers.
She could have done a whole semester of kissing with Shane. Intense personal study. With lab classes.
Time really wasn't happening for her, but eventually Claire realized that there was a soft glow coming from the windows, and she was numb and sore from sitting on the floor. She winced as a muscle in her back protested, and Shane reached out, pulled her up, and settled himself on the couch.
He stretched out, and extended a hand to her. She stared, tingling and confused. "There's no room.'"
"Plenty of room,'" he said.
She felt breathless and kind of wild, stretching out on the tiny area of sofa cushion available next to him, and then smothered a yelp as Shane picked her up and draped her over his chest and, oh my God, over all the rest of him, too.
"Better?'" he asked, and raised his eyebrows. It was a real question, and he was looking for a real answer. Claire felt a blush building a fire in her cheeks, but she didn't look away from his gaze.
"Perfect,'" she said. ~ Rachel Caine

Dude, what're you waiting for?" Carlos calls. "Plant one on her."
I lift my eyes and am shocked to see Brandon is staring at my mouth. He swallows audibly and flicks his gaze to mine. the emotions darkening the soft green color are too confusing to name.
Does he want to back out?
An exhale of breath leaves Brandon's lips, almost like a laugh, and he scoots closer to me on the blanket. I twist my legs under myself, sitting tall as I face him. He cups my chin and tilts it toward him, drowning me in the now dark-green depths of his eyes, the cologne I gave him for his birthday filling my head. It's woodsy and yummy and I always loved how it smelled on the store testers, but on Brandon, it's even sexier. My eyes flutter closed, and I inhale again, this time slowly. Goose bumps prickle my arms, and my head gets fuzzy.
Brandon slides his hand down the column of my neck and brings the other up, threading his fingers through the hair at my nape. His breath fans across my cheek, and everything south of my bellybutton squeezes tight.
When his mouth first meets mine, it's hesitant, questioning. But as I move my lips with his, he quickly grows bolder, coaxing them apart.
Desire, pure and raw, electrifies my veins as his tongue sweeps my mouth. A whimpering sound springs from my chest, and instinctively, I wrap my arms around his neck, tugging him closer. Needing more. My teeth graze his full bottom lip, and I pull it, sucking on it gently.
He moans and ~ Rachel Harris

It's just that when a woman is kidnapped and forced into agreeing to marriage, she hopes for a bit more... excitement. Than this."
He rolled slowly- maddeningly- to face her, the air between them thickened, and Penelope was instantly aware of their position, scant inches apart, on a warm pallet in a small room in an empty house, beneath the same blanket- which happened to be his greatcoat. And she realized that perhaps she should not have implied that the evening was unexciting.
Because she was not at all certain that she was prepared for it to become any more exciting. "I didn't mean-" She rushed to correct herself.
"Oh, I think you did an excellent job of meaning." The words were low and dark, and suddenly she was not so very sure that she wasn't afraid after all. "I am not stimulating enough for you?"
"Not you..." she was quick to reply. "The whole..." She waved one hand, lifting the greatcoat as she thought better of finishing. "Never mind."
His gaze was on her, intent and unmoving and, while he had not moved, it seemed as though he had grown larger, more looming. As though he had sucked a great deal of air from the room. "How can I make this night more satisfying for you, my lady?"
The soft question sent a thrum of feeling through her... the way the word- satisfying- rolled languid from his tongue set her heart racing and her stomach turning.
It seemed the night was becoming very exciting very quickly.
And everything was moving muc ~ Sarah MacLean

Promise me ye'll be careful."
"I'll gladly do that." A hand moved to her nape, a finger tickling the side of her neck. "Ye ken why?" he asked with a devilish grin.
"No." Her tongue grew dry.
His gaze dipped to her mouth. "'Cause ye still love me, lass." With one step in, his chest lightly brushed the tips of her breasts as he lowered his lips to hers. She caught a drift of his scent, part leather, part iron, part musk and entirely intoxicating male. With a rush of heat between her legs, Eva could no sooner resist him than to say no to warm double-chocolate-fudge-melting cake. The deep rumble of his sigh made tingles spread through the tips of her fingers as he deepened the pressure with soft, demanding lips ~ Amy Jarecki

I had, I'll admit, effected a certain style - a method, if you will - of cupcake eating. To begin, you remove the cupcake liner carefully so as not to unnecessarily crumble the cake, and set it aside. You then turn the cupcake slowly in your hand, taking bites along the line where cake meets icing, your mouth filling with a perfect combination of both components. Once you've come full circle, you gently twist off the bottom half inch of cake, a move that takes considerable finesse and leaves a delicate sliver of cake - the ideal size for lying flat on your tongue and allowing it to slowly dissolve, building anticipation for that final bite. To finish, you are left with the center cylinder of cake and icing, the cupcake's very heart, sometimes filled with a surprising burst of custard or jam or mousse, sometimes not, but always, always, the most moist, flavorful bite of the entire cupcake. Take a breath before diving into that final, perfect bite; it is to be savored for as long as possible. Finally, of course, you scavenge the crumbs from the cupcake liner you set aside during step one, then ball the liner into your fist and overhand it into the nearest receptacle. Make the shot? You get another cupcake. ~ Meg Donohue

Who is that in the glass? She sees herself for the first time. She doesn't require soft
light, not at her age, not with her looks, so the effect of three candles is excessively
ravishing. Her hair sparks at every brush stroke. The candlelight carves a grotto in
the gloom around her. The mirror is a sacred pool, in it she sees the future: her lips
swollen with kissing, eyes caressing, come with me to my home beneath the sea and
I will love you.
She unbuttons her nightgown. My beautiful throat. Bares a white shoulder, ohh.
Parts the fabric to reveal her breasts, sailor take warning. Her image floating just
beneath the twilight surface, tempting herself overboard.
She hovers her hand above a nipple that gathers and pleats to a point seeking heat.
Kisses her palm with one eye on the mirror. Again, this time with her tongue.
Experiments with the creation of cleavage. Arranges her hair: Gibson girl, milkmaid,
madwoman, dryad. And leaves it there, spilling over her shoulders.
It's a self-portrait and the artist is in love. ~ Ann-Marie MacDonald

Tell me," I whisper, running my tongue along the shell of her ear. "Tell me how you want it to be. Tell me what you need from me."
I'll give her anything.
I'll tear my fucking chest open with my bare hands, rip out my heart and hand it to her, if that's what she needs.
All she has to do is tell me.
All she has to do is ask.
She could bark out a million demands, and I would work myself to the death making them all happen, but instead she merely whispers, "I want you to love me."
So I do.
I love her. ~ J.M. Darhower

Wrath…"
"What," he murmured against her, working her with his nose. "You don't like?"
"Shut up and get back to doing - "
His tongue slipping under the panties cut her off…and made him have to slow himself down.
She was so slick and wet and soft and willing, it was all he could do to keep himself from hauling her on the rug and going at her deep and hard. And then they'd both miss out on the fun of anticipation.
Moving the cotton aside with his hand, he kissed her pink flesh, then delved in. She was oh, so ready for him, and he knew it because of the honey that he swallowed as he dragged upward in a long, slow lick.
But it wasn't enough, and holding the panties to the side was distracting. With his fang, he punctured them, then split them apart right up the middle, leaving the two halves to hang off her hips. His palms went up to her ass and squeezed hard as he quit fooling around and got busy working out his female with his mouth. He knew exactly what she liked best, the sucking and the licking and the going in with his tongue.
Closing his eyes, he took it all in, the scent and the taste and the feel of her shuddering against him as she peaked and came apart.
Behind the fly of his leathers, his cock was screaming for attention, the rasp of the buttons not nearly sufficient to satisfy what it was demanding, but tough shit.
His erection was going to have to chill for a while, because this was too sweet to stop anytime soon. < ~ J.R. Ward

I gasp, and his mouth swoops down. He's kissing me, violently. Briefly our teeth clash, then his tongue is in my mouth.
Desire explodes like the Fourth of July throughout my body, and I'm kissing him back, matching his fervor, my hands knotting in his hair, pulling it, hard. He groans, a low sexy sound in the back of his throat that reverberates through me, and his hand moves down my body to the top of my thigh, his fingers digging into my flesh through the plum dress.
I pour all the angst and heartbreak of the last few days into our kiss, binding him to me, and it hits me - in this moment of blinding passion - he's doing the same, he feels the same. ~ E.L. James

Let it be the one business of my life to glorify Thee by every word of my tongue, by every work of my hand, by professing Thy truth, and by engaging all men, so far as in me lies, to glorify and love Thee. ~ Barbara Hughes

I alone stretch out the heavens and tread on the waves of the sea. My way is in the whirlwind and the storm, and clouds are the dust of my feet. My arm is endued with power; my hand is strong, my right hand exalted. Death is naked before me; destruction lies uncovered. Turn to me and be saved, all you ends of the earth. Every knee will bow before me; every tongue will confess to me. ~ Zhang Yun

I realized something tonight when you were in the arena doing your thing."
She took another deep breath of the roses' scent. "What was it?"
"I love you, Elle."
Her eyes flared wide to search his and her heart stopped.
"Do you love me?"
"Yes, I love you, Chase."
Simple, sure, an indisputable fact she couldn't've held on her tongue if she'd wanted to. But was she ready to love somebody who loved her back?
Was she?
"You had me since Spin Master," he said, with that grin she loved. "But I didn't know it 'til tonight."
"Oh, well, then, I get it," she said, smiling back. "You only loved me 'cause I saved your life."
"I want you to save it again."
He stood up to pull something out of the front pocket of his starched jeans. He reached for her hand.
"I'm asking you to marry me, Elle. Will you?"
Tears blurred her vision. They caught in her throat. Oh, God, how could she ever be a wife again? But how could she ever leave Chase?
She tried to buy herself a little time to think. "You said you don't trust women."
"Only you. I trust you. I trusted you with my life the first time I ever saw you."
That made her grin. And then she felt very solemn. He was looking right into her soul, holding her hand in his big calloused one. She clung to it.
"You're in a league of your own, Elle. Not just was a bull-fighter, but in every way."
She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to think. She knew she loved ~ Genell Dellin

Aiden smirked. "Wonder what this one is called?"
The hellhound's ears twitched as the massive body lowered preparing for attack. I slid my hand to the middle of the blade, feeling my heart pound and the adrenaline kick my system into overdrive. In the pit of my stomach, the cord started to unravel.
I swallowed. "Let's call this one ... Toto."
Three mouths opened in a growl that sent a cold chill down my spine, and a wave of hot, fetid breath smacked into us. Bile burned the back of my throat.
"I guess it doesn't like the name," I said, moving slowly to the right.
Aiden's powerful body tensed. "Here, Toto ... " One head snapped in his direction. "That's a good Toto."
I slipped around the ancient cross, creeping up on the hellhound from the right. The middle and left head focused on me, snapping and growlying.
Aiden clucked his tongue. "Come on, Toto, I'm pretty tasty. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

I went up above the quay past the steps to the hotel. I saw a man through the window with a beer in his hand, and another man with a basket full of eggs. I was feeling heavy now, and tired, and I stood there leaning backwards with my hands crossed behind my back at the end of the breakwater before I walked on to the beach on the other side and some way along on the hard-frozen white sand. It had started to blow a bit, and it was still cold with no snow, so I took off my scarf and tied it round my head and ears and sat down in the shelter of a dune and blew into my hands to warm them before I lit a cigarette. Poker ran along the edge of the water with a seagull's wing in his mouth, and I was so young then, and I remember thinking: I'm twenty-three years old, there is nothing left in life. Only the rest. ~ Per Petterson

My face is still marked with Henry's blood and I bend over this boy as if I'm taking a drink from a fountain in the park. I brush his nearly dead lips and they are dry as the back of my hand. His tongue barely touches mine and pulls away like a thief and oh Lucy if you had only asked me for this. ~ Will Christopher Baer

Thanks to Bruce and Casey, I could operate six different firearms, drop a two-hundred-pound asshole to the floor in three seconds, and cuff a perp with one hand tied behind my back.

And they called it "family time. ~ Kelly Keaton

The kiss wasn't just any kiss. No, it was a tricky little bastard, because it started out soft and gentle, but shifted gears in a matter of seconds. The moment her response went from surprise to surrender, the kiss turned hard and hungry, launching us into a frenzy of movement. Her arms were around my neck, my hands were moving all over her body, and somehow, in a span of about five seconds, she climbed up me like a tree, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist.
We spun and bumped into the counter. I reached behind my back with one hand to tighten the cross of her ankles. And then I had her sitting on the edge of the stovetop, my hands exploring the tops of her thighs. I pushed the ruffled skirt hem up and clasped on to her bare, silky skin. Her tongue dove to the back of my throat, sliding over mine like wet, slick velvet.
Holy mother fuck, I couldn't breathe. I was drowning in this girl. ~ Rachael Wade

Before Bryce could say anything else, Kaleb dropped Bryce's hand and threw his arms around him, squeezing tightly.

Bryce rubbed Kaleb's back and kissed his neck. "Whatever it is we'll get through it." Kaleb loosened his hold and Bryce moved back up the bed, laying back and holding his arms out for his boyfriend. Kaleb hesitated a moment, as unused to cuddling as Bryce was.

"Let me hold you?" Bryce asked. Kaleb nodded tiredly and climbed up on the bed, resting his head on Bryce's chest. Sifting his fingers through Kaleb's hair, he murmured, "Just rest. You're safe now."

Kaleb shifted, propped himself up on his elbow, and looked down at him in silence. Bryce smiled softly, wondering what he was thinking. Very slowly, Kaleb lowered his head and brushed a kiss on Bryce's lips, then against his forehead. He nudged Bryce's mouth open with his own and filled it with his tongue. Bryce groaned, meeting him stroke for stroke, grabbing the back of his head, and kissing Kaleb breathless.

Abruptly, Kaleb broke contact and sat up to do away with the rest of his clothes. Bryce did the same, tossing his sleeping shorts across the room, and got on his hands and knees in front of his lover. Kaleb's arms looped around him and lips trailed from his tailbone up to the nape of his neck.

"Not this time," Kaleb said softly at his ear, and rolled Bryce to his back. ~ Jennivie Wirries

You're bleeding," he said. "A thorn prick, no more," she stated. "I didn't know fairy creatures could bleed. I always fancied them spun of mist and moonlight, not flesh and blood." "Let go." "No, my love - " "I'm not a fairy creature, and I am surely not your love." "It's just an expression." "It's a lie. But 'tis no high wonder to me. I'd be expecting falsehoods from a Sassenach." "Poor Caitlin. Does it hurt?" Very slowly, with his eyes fixed on hers, he put her finger to his lips and gently slipped it inside his mouth. Too shocked to stop him, she felt the warmth of his mouth, the moist velvet brush of his tongue over the pad of her finger. Then with an excess of gentleness he drew it out and placed her hand in her lap. "I think the bleeding's stopped," he said. ~ Susan Wiggs

As he teased her lips with his tongue, she palmed his erection. "Want to do something about this while we wait for the cleanup crew to arrive?" She sure as hell did. She didn't know if it was the adrenaline still coursing through her veins or just knowing that he wanted her, but she was already wet for him, her body tingling and desperate for his touch.
"That depends ," he whispered against her lips, leaning into her. "How do you feel about making love in front of an audience?"
"That's not my thing either," she admitted. She had never been an exhibitionist.
A throat cleared. "Then you might want to step away from my brother," Richart drawled behind them, "so I won't get an eyeful."
Krysta yanked her hand away so fast you'd think Étienne's crotch had caught fire.
Spinning around, she found Richart standing there with one eyebrow raised. ~ Dianne Duvall

I am not a lost cause." Denial was automatic and a waste of time. Andrew put his hand over Neil's mouth to shut him up and said, "Liar. But that's what makes you interesting. It's also what makes you dangerous. I should know better by now. Maybe I'm not as smart as I thought I was. Should I be disappointed or amused?" The perfect retort burned Neil's tongue, but he kept quiet in case Andrew wasn't done rambling. The answer was there, right out of reach, close enough Neil could feel it, but too far for him to make sense of. Maybe Andrew felt it too, because even in his drugged haze he knew to shut up. The smile he flashed Neil mocked them both at that near-miss. He withdrew completely, leaving just the memory of his heartbeat against Neil's mouth, and spun away. ~ Nora Sakavic

Two languages cancel each other out, suggests Barthes, beckoning a third. Sometimes our words are few and far between, or simply ghosted. in which case the hand, although limited by the borders of skin and cartilage, can be the third language that animates where the tongue falters. ~ Ocean Vuong

St Mary Magdalene church was on the left-hand side of the road, set back behind a low brick wall, well-trimmed topiary and a narrow fringe of grass studded with lichen-covered gravestones from a hundred years ago. A sign had been tied to the railings: two capital As set inside a blue triangle that was itself set within a blue circle. An arrow pointed towards the church. Milton felt a disconcerting moment of doubt and paused by the gate to adjust the lace of his shoe. He looked up and down the street, satisfying himself that he was not observed. He knew the consequences for being seen in a place like this would be draconian and swift; suspension would be immediate, the termination of his employment would follow soon after, and there was the likelihood of prosecution. He was ready to leave the service, but on his own terms and not like that. ~ Mark Dawson

Luke pulls me to him and crushes his mouth to mine.

"I said I wasn't going to do this," he whispers on a kiss.

"'S'okay." I pull him closer, my hands snaking up his back. "Don't mind."

His hands move up to cup my face, to tilt my head, to move his lips over mine again. "Bella?"

"Hmmm?"

I stifle a groan as Luke pulls away.

Still holding my face in one hand, he runs his finger down my nose. Over my cheek. I lean into his palm and just try to breathe. "What?"

"Do you know what this was?" he asks, his mouth near my ear.

"The warm-up?"

"A test."

My cozy smile drops. I step away.

"You're lying to yourself if you think you don't want to be with me."

"I - I" - am so mad - "it was the moonlight. It was the popcorn at nine o'clock."

Luke reaches out and brushes a piece of hair behind my ear. "Face it - you're totally into your editor." He sighs dramatically. "I hope whatever is keeping us apart is worth it."

I stand there motionless, my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth as Luke climbs into his 4Runner. I should say something. I should yell - or maybe throw a shoe? What would Ruthie do? No. I can't moon him. ~ Jenny B. Jones

Just a boy, Just a child,
In a place where no one grows up;

Young bodies with old minds,
Dream and nightmare reign side by side,
In a place where no one grows up;

A time when darkness shrouded the sun,
Vengeance birthed from sea and blood,
Many had fallen in the war never won,
In a place where no one grows up;

When the boy's heart grieved he became more of a man,
When the pirate's heart hardened with the loss of his hand,
One dreadful night everything changed and feuds began,
Now the ghosts from their mistakes are tied to this land,
In a place where no one grows up;

Just a boy, just a child, in appearance it's true,
But children can carry terrible burdens too,
For sometimes stopping time doesn't mean forever youth,
Living, forgetting, loving, seething, bearing an all too heavy truth;

Just a boy, Just a child,
In a place where no one grows up. ~ Emory R. Frie

I want to know your story. I want to know you. I want - oh, fuck it. Ren cupped my cheek, his hand gentle as he tilted my head back, and before my heart could take another beat, he kissed me. It was no slow or seductive kiss. He claimed my lips as if he were laying claim to my body, to my soul, and every part of me. His mouth was demanding as he tilted his head, his lips moving over mine, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, willing them to part, and I ... I opened for him. My lips parted, and he made this sound, this deep animalistic groan that sent flames lapping over my skin. The kiss deepened, and his tongue slid over mine, along the roof of my mouth. He took me with his mouth, tasted me and claimed me. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

We'll earn it all back today," I say, and we both plow into our plates. Even cold, it's one of the things I've ever tasted. I abandon my fork and scrape up the last dabs of gravy with my fingers. "I can feel Effie trinket shuddering at my manners."
"Hey, Effie, watch this!" says Peeta. He tosses his fork over his shoulder and literally licks his plate his plate clean with his tongue making loud, satisfied sounds. Then he blows a kiss to her in general, and calls, "We miss you, Effie!"
I cover his hand with my mouth. But I am laughing.
"Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave."
He grabs my hand away."What do I care. I've got you to protect me now," says Peeta, pulling me to him.
"Come on," I say in exasperation, extricating myself from his grasp but not before he gets another kiss. ~ Suzanne Collins

Word from the outside, whether it arrived in a mail sack or a news report, seldom overshadowed the facts of our lives. We talked in facts -- work and weather, the logistics of this fence, that field -- but stories were how we spoke. A good story rose to the surface of a conversation like heavy cream, a thing to be savored and served artfully. Stored in dry wit, wrapped in dark humor, tied together with strings of anecdote, these stories told the chronology of a family, the history of a piece of land, the hardships of a certain year or a span of years, a series of events that led without pause to the present. If the stories were recent, they filtered through the door to my room late at night, voices hushed around the kitchen table as they sorted out this day and held it against others, their laughter sharp and sad and slow to come. Time was the key. Remember the time...and something in the air caught like a whisper. Back when. Back before a summer too fresh and real to talk about, a year's work stripped in a twenty-minute hailstorm; a man's right hand mangled in the belts of a combine, first day of harvest; an only son buried alive in a grain bin, suffocated in a red avalanche of wheat. ~ Judy Blunt

I turned back to the shrike, but the beak of his mask grazed up my neck and warm lips brushed my ear. Thrills coursed through me, but I didn't move until he started away. I caught his hand. "Wait."
He'd felt right. I knew who I needed him to be, even if the way we'd danced was not how- That kind of passion he reserved for music. Not me.
A cold breeze made me shiver as I tightened my grip on his. Stepped closer. Searched his eyes. His lips tilted up at one corner, like amusement. I'd known, but still, the familiar expression stunned me so much I almost didn't act.
I kissed him.
Rather, I pressed my mouth against his and hoped he wouldn't run. It would probably kill me.
Three long seconds and he only gasped and tightened his hands on my back. Then, with a soft moan, he opened his mouth and kissed me. It wasn't an easy, sweet kiss like I'd imagined my first would be, but frustraeted and hungry. That was good, better than easy and sweet, because after everything, I was frustrated and hungry for him, too.
His beak scraped my cheek, but I ignored it while the tip of his tongue danced over my lips. ~ Jodi Meadows

Lee went quickly out of the kitchen. He sat in his room, gripping his hands tightly together until he
stopped choking. He got up and took a small carved ebony box from the top of his bureau. A dragon
climbed toward heaven on the box. He carried the box to the kitchen and laid it on the table between
Abra's hands. "This is for you," he said, and his tone had no inflection.
She opened the box and looked down on a small, dark green jade button, and carved on its surface
was a human right hand, a lovely hand, the fingers curved and in repose. Abra lifted the button out and
looked at it, and then she moistened it with the tip of her tongue and moved it gently over her full lips,
and pressed the cool stone against her cheek.
Lee said, "That was my mother's only ornament."
Abra got up and put her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek, and it was the only time
such a thing had ever happened in his whole life.
Lee laughed. "My Oriental calm seems to have deserted me," he said. "Let me make the tea,
darling. I'll get hold of myself that way." From the stove he said, "I've never used that word - never
once to anybody in the world. ~ John Steinbeck

May I?" asked Amar.
I nodded. With a small knife, Amar deftly clipped a number of strands. Quickly, he twirled them into a bracelet and slipped it onto his wrist. There was another bracelet on his hand that I had not noticed until now. A simple strap of black leather tied into an elegant knot.
"Thank you for this," he said, pulling his sleeve over the other strap.
"It's nothing," I said, trying for lightness.
"And yet I would trade everything for it," he said. There was no tease in his voice. Nothing but a strange straightforwardness, like he'd never said anything more honest in his entire life.
"Then you must be relieved I gave it willingly."
"Astounded," he murmured, still tracing the circlet. He looked at me and something light fluttered in my stomach. "Not relieved. Relief is when you want something to stop."
A small light floated between us, only to vanish in an instant.
"What are those?"
Amar followed my gaze. "Wishes."
My eyes widened. "They grant wishes?"
"Sadly, no. They're wishes already made."
"Of what?"
"Or who?" countered Amar.
"Is this another secret the moon keeps from me?"
"No," said Amar with a grin. "It is a secret that I choose to keep from you. ~ Roshani Chokshi

Gray watched her,watched the rush of pink travel up from her chest to her neck and out her throat.It was beautiful.Stunning.
He turned.To his right,another female,one who had been shadowing him all night,had her hands on him,trying to stroke him through his jeans.
"What´s your name?"he shouted.
She smiled."Marina."
"You have a very pretty mouth,Marina."
"So do you."
His turn.He smiled too."Would you like to use it?"
"Gotcha,baby,"she thought,then let her tongue flicker out to swipe at her lower lip.Grinning,she unzipped his fly and released his straining prick.
Gray´s nostrils flared as she wrapped her soft hand around him,then lowered her head and took him into her mouth. ~ Laura Wright

I can't see why you should want to dance with me now, when you never have before." The statement was more revealing than she had intended it to be. She cursed her own wayward tongue, while his speculative gaze wandered over her face.

"I wanted to," he surprised her by murmuring. "However, there always seemed to be good reasons not to."

"Why--"

"Besides," Westcliff interrupted, reaching out to take her gloved hand, "there was hardly a point in asking when your refusal was a forgone conclusion." Deftly he pressed her hand to his arm and led her toward the mass of couples in the center of the room.

"It was not a forgone conclusion."

Westcliff glanced at her skeptically. "You're saying that you would have accepted me?"

"I might have."

"I doubt it."

"I did just now, didn't I?"

"You had to. It was a debt of honor."

She couldn't help but laugh. "For what, my lord?"

"The calf's head," he reminded her succinctly.

"Well, if you hadn't served such a nasty object in the first place, I wouldn't have needed to be rescued!"

"You wouldn't have need to be rescued if you didn't have such a weak stomach."

"You're not supposed to mention body parts in front of a lady," she said virtuously. "Your mother said so."

Westcliff grinned. "I stand corrected. ~ Lisa Kleypas

I am a child of God, therefore I don't have to be afraid or dismayed. I know God is with me. He will strengthen me, help me, and uphold me with His hand (Isa. 41:10). I am a child of God, therefore no weapon formed against me shall succeed. God will disprove every tongue that rises against me in judgment (Isa. 54:17 ESV). I am a child of God, therefore God is in my midst, a mighty one who will save me; He will rejoice over me with gladness; He will quiet me with his love; He will exult over me with loud singing (Zeph. 3:17). I am a child of God, therefore God's Word is there for me. It is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path (Ps. 119:105). ~ Lysa TerKeurst

They didn't have much trouble
teaching the ape to write poems:
first they strapped him into a chair,
then tied the pencil around his hand
(the paper had already been nailed down).
Then Dr. Bluespire leaned over his shoulder
and whispered into his ear:
'You look like a god sitting there.
Why don't you try writing something? ~ James Tate

The magic flooded us again. This time Derek was ready - his face showed no change. Ghastek, on the other hand, halted in midrise halfway off the ground.
I unsheathed Slayer. Derek backed away, giving himself room for a leap. If the vamp went berserk, we'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble.
"Ghastek?" I murmured.
"Just a second." His voice sounded muffled.
"Are you losing your grip on him?"
"What?"
The vampire dropped to the floor, regarding me with blood-drenched eyes. "Whatever led you to that conclusion?"
"You froze."
"If you must know, an apprentice brought me my espresso and I burned my tongue on it."
Derek grimaced, disgust practically dripping off his face. ~ Ilona Andrews

Burns immediately left the class, and going into the small inner room where the books were kept, returned in half a minute, carrying in her hand a bundle of twigs tied together at one end. This ominous tool she presented to Miss Scatcherd with a respectful curtesy; then she quietly, and without being told, unloosed her pinafore, and the teacher instantly and sharply inflicted on her neck a dozen strokes with the bunch of twigs. Not a tear rose to Burns' eye; and, while I paused from my sewing, because my fingers quivered at this spectacle with a sentiment of unavailing and impotent anger, not a feature of her pensive face altered its ordinary expression. "Hardened girl!" exclaimed Miss Scatcherd; "nothing can correct you of your slatternly habits: carry the rod away." Burns obeyed: I looked at her narrowly as she emerged from the book-closet; she was just putting back her handkerchief into her pocket, and the trace of a tear glistened on her thin cheek. ~ Charlotte Bronte

I think you'd melt like sugar on my tongue. What do you think?" She laughed a little, holding on to my shoulders. "I think I'm melting now." "I think you are. I think you're going to melt all over my fucking hand and I'll lick it off after. Are you loud, little Plum? When you come are you wild? ~ Christina Lauren

His tongue swept in, gentle and sweet, but also intense. She tasted spearmint, like he'd been chewing gum. He smelled like grass from the field.
One hand smoothed a path up her back under her sweatshirt but over her tank. His palm made lazy circles on her back that mimicked the rhythm of their kiss. It was a light, almost reverent touch, and she finally knew what Katie meant when she had once said she loved kissing so much she could do it for hours alone. If this was how it was supposed to be done, sign her up for a marathon event. ~ Jeanette Murray

Griff entered the cave, sword in hand. He had no desire to frighten Astelle, but he had to be prepared for anything.
She jumped up from her fireside position with a small stifled scream at his entry, then continued to back fearfully towards the shadowed wall.
She was quite alone. Griff could sense no other presence – only hers, and the wonder of it. He sheathed his sword, and gazed upon his long-lost love.
Her hair had lost all trace of colour while still retaining the texture of youth, giving the appearance of white silk. There was a pulsating light of a blue-lilac shade which clung to the crown of her head, reflecting in the hair – a soul – a lost spirit – someone who had loved her. She was almost as pale as death, for Torking took far too much blood from her, too frequently. She was also much thinner than she should have been, but for all of this, she was still the most beautiful sight of his life.
Her body was ravaged with Torking's bites and claw-marks. She was still wearing his old cloak which Griff instantly recognised, though it was little more than a rag, wrapped around her body and tied on one shoulder. Her beautiful dark eyes, those which had so haunted his dreams, seemed over-large in her pale face, as she stared at him with a mingling of shock, disbelief and joy.
Griff took a few hesitant steps towards her, unsure of his reception. 'Astelle?' His voice grated with emotion.
How often had she yearned to hear him speak her name exactly ~ Bernie Morris

Hold still baby girl. Hold still. I need you to do something for me," he said quietly.

I opened my mouth and said, "What?" but no words came out. I tried again.

Nothing.

He smiled.

He continued to lick my hip bone. He kissed it and looked me in the eyes.

"You listening?" he asked.

As I squeezing the countertop with each hand, my arms beside my body, my hands beside my butt, I nodded.

"Fuck my tongue. I want you to fuck my mouth, do you hear me?"

I opened my mouth and squeaked. My eyes closed. I felt his tongue move from my hip to my clit. His palm slid slowly across my hip, and rested in the depression between my hip and my pussy. His thumb was positioned on the skin above my clit, and pushed upward, exposing my clit totally. As his tongue met my clit, I squirmed.

I felt his lip on top of my clit, and his tongue on the bottom. He started a motion with his tongue and lip, with my clit in between. About three seconds into it, I was done…almost to climax. I felt myself begin to cum. No, not yet, not yet, please…make this last.

He lifted his head, and looked me in the eye. He must have sensed I was going to cum.

"No, don't stop. Please, Erik, don't fucking stop." I begged.

"Fuck my mouth. Grind your pussy on my face baby girl, do you hear me?"

"Yes sir. Do it. Do that again. Exactly what you were doing, exactly," I said, hoping he co ~ Scott Hildreth

In ninety seconds they were naked and he was nibbling at her ear while his hand rubbed her pubic mat; but a saboteur was at work at his brain. 'I love you,' he thought, and it was not untrue because he loved all women now, knowing partially what sex was really all about, but he couldn't bring himself to say it because it was not totally true, either, since he loved Mavis more, much more. 'I'm awfully fond of you,' he almost said, but the absurdity of it stopped him. Her hand cupped his cock and found it limp; her eyes opened and looked into his enquiringly. He kissed her lips quickly and moved his hand lower, inserting a ringer until he found the clitoris. But even when her breathing got deeper, he did not respond as usual, and her hand began massaging his cock more desperately. He slid down, kissing nipples and bellybutton on the way, and began licking her clitoris. As soon as she came, he cupped her buttocks, lifted her pelvis, got his tongue into her vagina and forced another quick orgasm, immediately lowering her slightly again and beginning a very gentle and slow return in spiral fashion back to the clitoris. But still he was flaccid.

'Stop,' Stella breathed. 'Let me do you, baby.'

George moved upward on the bed and hugged her. 'I love you,' he said, and suddenly it did not sound like a lie.

Stella giggled and kissed his mouth briefly. 'It takes a lot to get those words out of you, doesn't it?' she said bemusedly.

'Honesty is t ~ Robert Anton Wilson

Jane had found a book on the proper way to string a corset, and the gist of it was this: tighten it until you could barely breathe. Then you were halfway there. Since she was dressing herself, she tied two ends to a bedpost and walked forward to tighten it. But then the bedpost broke, and when the neighbor came over to see what the ruckus was, Jane implored her to tighten the corset for her.
Her neighbor acquiesced and then left her with this piece of advice: "Friends don't let friends corset alone. ~ Cynthia Hand

He knew then he was in danger. Very real danger. No woman had ever given him a gift or spoken to him as she did. Or tied him in these breathless knots. Or left him so aroused just by standing close and letting him hold her hand. ~ Jayne Fresina

When a resolute young fellow steps up to the great bully, the world, and takes him boldly by the beard, he is often surprised to find it comes off in his hand, and that it was only tied on to scare away the timid adventurers. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson