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“If I get my hands on you, really, honestly get my hands on you, I don't know if I'll be able to stop.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“He stares at me in disbelief. 'You know what? We're not fighting tonight. Not if you want to learn how to shield.'

'Fine. We're not fighting. Teach me.' I tilt my chin. Gods, I barely reach his collarbone.

'Ask me nicely.' He leans closer.

'Have you always been this tall?' I blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

'No, I was a a child at some point.'

I roll my eyes.

'Ask me nicely, Violence,' he whispers. 'Or I'm gone.'
...

'Right then. All right. Will you teach me to shield?'

A smile curves his mouth, and my gaze drops to his lips. 'Say please.'

'Are you always this difficult?'

'Only when I know I have something you need. What can I say, I like making you squirm. It's like a sweet little slice of payback for what you've put me through these last couple of months.' He brushes the snow off my hair.

'What I've put you through?' Unbelieveable.

'You've scared me nearly to death once or twice, so I think saying please is a fair request.'

Like he's ever played fair a day in his life. I take a deep breath, and swat at a snowflake that lands on my nose. 'As you prefer. Xaden?' I smile sweetly up at him and inch a little closer. 'Would you pretty, pretty please teach me how to shield before I accidentally climb you like a tree and we both wake up with regrets?'

'Oh, I'm firmly in control of my faculties.' He smiles again, and I feel it like a caress.

Dangerous. This is so damn dangerous.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“People always look aroused when they’re acting violently.”
― Hari Kunzru, White Tears

“For a moment she stared at him, panting, breathless and wordless, it seemed, with rage.
He'd had no idea she would respond to his capture of her queen so violently.
It was rather arousing.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Sin

“God, she was gorgeous. Pure and cleanly beautiful. From the rounded crests of her cheeks to the delicate sweep of her jaw, she had the kind of face sculptors memorialized in marble and the rest of us gazed upon for centuries to come.
Of course she was beautiful. She was an actress. Meant to be idolized on the screen. Emma Maron, a.k.a Princess Anya, future queen and conqueror on Dark Castle. The guys and I used to watch the show while traveling between games. Anya was a favorite. Particularly since...
I'd seen her breasts. It hit me like a puck to the helmet, and my ears began to ring. I'd seen those perfect creamy handfuls with sweet pink tips that pointed upward, defying gravity and begging to be sucked. I had watched her on hands on knees, perky tits bouncing as Arasmus slammed into her from behind.
I actually blushed. Me. The guy who'd had dozens of women throw themselves at him every night since high school. I'd had sex so many times and in so many ways it had become a blur. Nothing shamed me or made me uncomfortable. Yet I started to get hot under the collar, my cheeks burning. After nearly a year of being disinterested in all things sexual, my dick decided to make its presence known and start rising. Now, of all times. Now, when I was stuck in a damn truck less than three feet from a woman, I finally got a hard-on. Lovely.
I felt like a damn lecher.
"At least it's a beautiful drive," she said, breaking through heated thoughts of creamy breasts with cotton candy nipples.”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“She left quietly, closing the door behind her.
Only then did Hunter move, wandering to the portal, his large hand clasping the oval brass knob that she had just touched, searching for any remaining warmth her skin might have imparted. He leaned his cheek against the cool, glossy panel and closed his eyes. He craved her body, her sweetness, her hands on his body, her legs open to him, her throat tightening with feminine cries as he pleasured her... He shoved the thoughts away, but it was too late, he was left with a painful erection that wouldn't subside.
How long would it take for her to accept him? What the devil would she require? If only she would assign him some herculean task for him to accomplish and prove himself. 'Tell me what to do,' he thought, emitting a slight groan, 'and by God, I'll do it ten times over.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Stranger in My Arms

“Grace."
He drew out the word so it became a long, deep, guttural growl. A sound as primitive as a lion's roar for its mate. Her skin prickled with animal awareness and the breath caught in her throat. Every drop of moisture evaporated from her mouth. Low in her belly, blood began to beat slow and hard with anticipation.
Her face must have betrayed her unfurling arousal. Or perhaps, like her, he reacted to the sudden charge in the air, as electric as the pause before a lightning strike.
Still without shifting his fierce focus, he set down the box he carried. Then he reached to close the doors and slide the bolt across.
Any doubt as to his purpose fled. A delicious thrill rippled through her. The summerhouse was raised on a platform so the windows opened above eye height. With the doors locked, it was a bower designed for private sin.
Sin was clearly his aim.
Now she looked more closely, she realized it wasn't anger that tightened the skin over the bones of his face. It was incendiary hunger.
She should protest. Question. Demand he tell her why he was here. But overwhelming need kept her silent and pinned to the window seat.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched

“Lady Penelope Campion- the aging, frazzled, unsightly spinster who...
Who wasn't any of those things. Not by a mile. As fortune would have it, Lady Penelope Campion turned out to be a fair-haired, blue-eyed beauty.
In his mind's eye, he could still see her sprawled across his bed in her dressing gown. Like an all-grown-up Goldilocks, having crept into his house uninvited to test the mattress. Too soft, too hard...?
He didn't know her opinion, but Gabe's reaction was the latter. His cock was in its usual morning prime, standing at full mast.”
― Tessa Dare, The Wallflower Wager

“There's a difference between being in love and being horny. When you are horny you want release, when you are in love, you don't want to be released, you just want to stay there in that state forever.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Vatican Virus: The Forbidden Fiction

“Even if the body wants, so long as your character is strong, you'll never go astray.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Vatican Virus: The Forbidden Fiction

“Not fair to use your powers on the mat.' Magical. Sexual. Whatever. It's all unfair.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“Almost before the strings of her corset were freed, his palms slid into the bodice of her gown, closing around her breasts, filling his hands with soft, overflowing flesh, for her breasts seemed to swell of their own volition. His palms rubbed tiny circles around the points of her nipples, first one way, then the other.
She'd written about this, with Raven and Rowan. She recalled moving restlessly in her chair as she'd written the scene, pressing her hands against her bosom in order to quell the sensation that gathered there.
But this was so much better than she could have ever imagined. This, then, was what he meant by touching, she realized hazily.
Tiny needlelike pinpricks centered there, in the very peaks. He tantalized. He tormented. Yet she longed for it to go on and on, for she sensed there was more. Her lips parted. She panted softly, aware that he watched his hands lift her breasts, his thumbs whisking across her nipples, then circling slowly. Yes, he watched... and she watched, and it was arousing beyond belief.”
― Samantha James, The Seduction Of An Unknown Lady

“Guide my hands. I don't wish to hurt you."
"Lower," she said when he pressed fingertips to the middle of her back. "Lower," she urged, guiding him downward. "There."
He started softly, pressing the pads of his fingers to the muscles he felt. She sighed, a sound that vibrated down his spine, settling with a flickering and tightening heat in his scrotum. He shifted as his blood thickened like honey in his veins. This was too much to ask of him. He was already drunk on arousal and need. It swam through his head like whisky, making his thoughts give way to instinct and consequences appear murky.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“There's nothing wrong with wanting release, but we must make sure that the stimuli we use for release do not involve the violation of human will.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Vatican Virus: The Forbidden Fiction

“Their encounter had been amazing, breathtaking. He'd touched her in ways she'd never imagined a man might touch a woman and...it had been wonderful. Shocking, too, but wonderful was the only accurate method of describing it.
All these hours later, her body was alive and thrumming with an unfamiliar, exotic energy, as though it had been in hibernation and had just been awakened. Her nipples were alert and aroused from how he'd pinched them. Whenever she shifted about on the bed, the fabric of her nightdress irritatingly rubbed against them and made her wish he was present to fondle them again.
He'd suckled against her! With his dark hair splayed across her chest, and his lips wrapped around her breast, he'd looked so beautiful. The episode had been brief and abrupt, but the agitation he'd inflicted with his atrocious teeth and tongue still tormented.
Her womanly cleft was overly aggravated, as well, and when he'd caressed her there, she'd been outraged by the intimate penetration of his conniving hand, but not now as she reflected upon it cooly and analytically. His shrewd finger had fit exactly right, had stroked across an itch she hadn't realized needed scratching.
Retrospection about him and his indecent gestures caused her to press her thighs together, but the movement inundated her with searing sensation, and she groaned in frustration. Her tender, feminine flesh was moist and swollen, and to her consternation, she wished he was available to continue his maneuvers. Without a doubt, he would be competent to ease her physical woes.”
― Cheryl Holt, Total Surrender

“Every time I close my eyes I can still see her--- beaming up at the camera in that flimsy excuse for clothing, her hair a golden halo around her head, her body backlit and glorious.
I am filled with rage.
At the photographer for taking that picture.
At Cassie for allowing so many others to see her practically naked.
At all seven billion people on this planet who have the theoretical ability to see that picture of her with a few simple clicks of a button.
At myself.
As I sit hunched over my desk I try desperately to ignore the urgent, now-familiar ache in my loins. As Cassie sleeps innocently, unknowingly in the next room, I clutch at what remains of my sanity and of my self-control.
Because God's thumbs--- when I saw that picture of her all I could think was how badly I want Cassie to wear that "bathing suit" of hers for me.
If I had been there when it was taken, it would have been all I could do to keep myself from easing those delicate little straps of fabric off her shoulders and baring the rest of her beautiful body to my eyes.”
― Jenna Levine, My Roommate Is a Vampire

“As fucked up as it seemed, all I could do while sitting in the trees and listening to a fight that would decide my fate was grow increasingly hot and bothered. I ground my teeth as I clenched my thighs together, hoping for an ounce of friction and relief. My legs were slick where my heat pooled and dripped down. I'd be embarrassed if I wasn't so frustrated. Vampires, especially those with the addictive, hot bite of Apollo, could all go to hell.”
― Sabrina Blackburry, Dirty Lying Dragons

“Intimacy doesn't mean baring your body, intimacy means baring your soul.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Neurosonnets: The Naskar Art of Neuroscience