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“The mystery of a woman lies in her sensuality.”
― Lebo Grand, Sensual Lifestyle

“Relationships fail not because we have stopped loving but primarily because we have stopped living seductively.”
― Lebo Grand

“For Milady was well aware that her most seductive power was in her voice, which could run skilfully through the whole scale of tones, from mortal speech, upwards to the language of heaven.”
― Alexandre Dumas

“A breeze, vanilla-scented, nutmeg milk, dark roast of cocoa beans over a slow fire.
It isn't magic. Really it isn't. It's just a trick, a game I play. There's no such thing as real magic- and yet it works. Sometimes, it works.
Can you hear me? I said. Not in my voice, but a shadow-voice, very light, like dappled leaves.
She felt it then. I know she did. Turning, she stiffened; I made the door shine a little, ever so slightly, the color of the sky. Played with it, pretty, like a mirror in the sun, shining it on and off her face.
Scent of woodsmoke in a cup; a dash of cream, sprinkle of sugar. Bitter orange, your favorite, 70 percent darkest chocolate over thick-cut oranges from Seville. Try me. Taste me. Test me.”
― Joanne Harris, The Girl with No Shadow

“She leaned over and the table and reached for the discarded dice, depositing them in a small leather dice box. As she straightened, she felt Sebastian's hand skim gently over her corseted back, and the hairs on her nape lifted in response. "The hour is late," he said, his tone far softer than the one he had used with Cam. "You should go to bed---you must be exhausted after all you've done today."
"I haven't done all that much." She shrugged uneasily, and his hand made another slow, unnerving pass along her spine.
"Oh yes, you have. You're pushing yourself a bit too hard, pet. You need to rest."
She shook her head, finding it difficult to think clearly when he was touching her. "I've been glad of the chance to work a bit," she managed to say. "It keeps me from dwelling on...on..."
"Yes, I know. That's why I've allowed it." His long fingers curved around the back of her neck.
Her breath shortened as the warmth of his hand transferred to her skin.
"You need to go to bed," he continued, his own breathing not quite steady as he eased her closer. His gaze drifted slowly from her face to the round outline of her breasts, and back again, and a low, humorless laugh escaped him. "And I need to go there with you, damn it. But since I can't... Come here."
"Why?" she asked, even as he secured her against the edge of the table and let his legs intrude amid the folds of her skirts.
"I want to torture you a little."
Evie stared at him with round eyes, while her heart pumped liquid fire through her veins. "When you---" She had to clear her throat and try again. "When you use the word 'torture,' I'm sure you mean it in a figurative sense."
He shook his head, his eyes filled with light smoke. "Literal, I'm afraid."
"What?"
"My love," he said gently, I hope you didn't assume that the next three months of suffering was to be one-sided? Put your hands on me."
"Wh-where?"
"Anywhere.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“Why would I joke about sin?" The urge to cross her over became a sweet and intense pain.
"Because you think it's cool or something." She glanced up at him and smiled, then caught his eyes and started as if she had finally seen the danger there.
He loved the fear he now saw on her face. He wanted to turn that fear into jagged terror.
"Sin and suffer," he whispered and brushed her hair away from her neck, exposing the rapid pulse of vein.
She sucked in air and took a quick step backward, her hand smoothing her throat.
He wanted her to turn and run. Above all, he enjoyed the chase.”
― Lynne Ewing, The Sacrifice

“He held the ribbon that tied her bodice. "You like to read about vampires but your mother thinks its unhealthy. Do you really want so desperately to become aligned with the night?"
She frantically shook her head.
"I can show you a more ancient evil," he promised in a soothing voice. He tugged on the ribbon, untying the bow. "One that has existed since the beginning of time."
"Right." She tried to force the word out with a sarcastic tone, but failed.
"Not many people know about the Atrox and its Followers, but you will," he assured her.
"You're not being funny anymore," she answered with more whimper than anger.
He let his finger trace up her body to her chin and lifted her face until she was forced to look in his eyes. "I was never trying to be. I was only trying to explain what I am."
She looked quickly behind her as if searching for a way to escape.
He paused for a moment, hoping she would run. When she didn't, he continued, "I can dissolve into shadow. Stay that way for days if I want. It's one of my powers."
"Stop teasing me," she whined. "You're scaring me now."
He leaned closer. "I can also enter your mind and take you into mine. Do you want me to show you?"
"No," she pleaded. It wasn't the strange light in the graveyard that gave her face such an unnatural pallor now. The true beauty of fear shimmered in her eyes.
"Let me show you." He seeped into her mind and brought her back into his. He could feel her struggle and then stop. He let her feel what he was, the emptiness and evil.”
― Lynne Ewing, The Sacrifice

“The night pulsed through him. He knew she saw something different in his eyes by the way she jerked back. He held her tight. "Don't you know when a guy wants to kiss you?"
She swallowed and seemed unsure.
"Put your arms around me," he ordered softly.
Her hands slipped tentatively up his chest and clasped his neck. He pulled her body next to his and she closed her eyes in anticipation.
What little resistance remained inside him slipped down into a cold abyss where his soul had once been. He eased into her mind with a suddenness that surprised her. Her eyes burst open with a shock and she stared at him. He saw the astonishment on her face and cherished the sensuous fear exploding inside her. She tried to break away from him.
"Too late," he whispered and held her with his eyes. Each time she tried to pull away, he drew her to him until he had her spellbound.
He could hear her whimpering, but it was as if she was far away.
Now sweet one, turn and face the Atrox. She struggled against his caressing, but soon she stopped fighting and her fear left her. The lies of the Atrox soothed her and filled her with promises.
Stanton smiled triumphantly and pressed his hand over her mouth so she couldn't cry out when she finally saw the black future that awaited her.
Her communion with the Atrox filled his emptiness, but he knew the ecstasy he felt from devouring her luxurious hope would only last for a short time. Soon, the aching need would return, but for now it was satisfied. He wondered now why he had denied himself for so long. He was a creature of the night and he relished his evil existence.”
― Lynne Ewing, The Sacrifice

“Are you done?"
"Done?"
I smiled sweetly. "Staring."
He paused a beat, those absurdly long lashes sweeping when he blinked. Then it was as if a light went off in his head, and a slow, easy smile spread over his face. It transformed him. From brooding brute to beautiful man.
The ice melted from his gaze, turning those green eyes too translucent sea glass. That gaze drew me in, impossible to look away from, even though a prickle of warning danced up my spine----because there was that evil smile to consider.
Then he spoke in a deep, honey-laden drawl. "What's the acceptable time limit? How long did you stare last night?"
Oh, no, no, no.
The blood rushed from my face in hot prickles of horror. A strangled sound escaped my lips.
Lucian leaned in, close enough that I caught a whiff of bitter chocolate and sweet oranges. Why did he have to smell like dessert? He sounded even better----hot cream and honey. "Did you like what you saw?" The question rippled over my skin, sank into my bones, a soft caress that dared me to answer yes.”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“Your skin is so smooth. Like silk."
The simple statement disconcerted her. She'd never before received a flattering compliment from a man, especially not an attractive, virile, mostly naked one, and as she stumbled for a response, he advanced like a large cat, a graceful, predatory beast like those from the jungles of Africa that she'd seen at an exhibition in London. He was so near that the fist she'd valiantly anchored to her bosom to hold the towel was pressed against his ribs. His skin was warm, and his matting of chest hair tickled the heel of her hand.
She tilted away, but the mirror prevented evasion. Though she fought to appear staunch and in control, her dilemma had quickly spiraled beyond her ability to navigate. Anxiously, she licked her bottom lip, which instantly had him studying her mouth as though intent on devouring her.
"Sir, you're scaring me."
"How?"
"I'm not certain why you're here---"
"Aren't you?" His words were husky with a dangerous lust that even she, in her sheltered, virginal state, couldn't misconstrue.
"---or what you propose..."
"You know what I propose. I'll be very gentle if that's how you like it." With a sure finger, he traced down her cheek and across her neck, and his touch was so blistering that she felt as if she'd been burned. She flinched, and he soothed, "You don't need to be afraid.”
― Cheryl Holt, Total Surrender

“Ye may kiss me again if ye like, husband, for I promise to enjoy it."
"Do ye now?" he asked with a faint smile. Then bent to nip at her ear before trailing his lips down her neck.
"Aye," she breathed, squirming against his body in the water. It wasn't the kiss she'd meant, but this was nice too.
"And do ye like this?" he asked, his voice a husky growl as one hand covered her breast underwater and began to knead. "Or this?" His other hand pressed against her bottom as he moved closer to the stairs, so that she rode lower in the water and her groin rubbed against his.
"Oh, aye," she moaned, arching her back and wrapping her legs around his hips so that their bodies rubbed together more firmly.
The action earned her another kiss, this one hot and demanding as he carried her out of the water and up the steps.”
― Lynsay Sands, Highland Wolf

“Children, and most especially girls---
pretty ones, sheltered from the world---
should never talk to unknown men,
who likely want to gobble them,
For there are wolves with pelts of hair,
whose huge teeth serve to say beware,
but also wolves who seem quite sweet,
when wooing women in the street
with flattery and playful charm.
It's very hard to see the harm
till they devour you, blood and bone.
Perhaps you keep one in your home?
My moral is a warning too:
that smooth-tongued wolf will ruin you.”
― Clare Pollard, The Modern Fairies