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“Her breath hitched when he slid a thick finger into her wet heat. Slow. Firm. Agonizingly delicious.
"You're so wet," he murmured. "It really did turn you on."
"You turn me on." She arched against him, pleasure rippling through her core. Sam pushed another finger inside, angling to brush against her sweet spot.
"I thought you needed me, like right now," she panted as he palmed her breast through her clothes.
"I need to give you pleasure first." His heated gaze trapped her, made her insides tighten.
"So you're a gentleman sex beast." She wrapped her arms around his neck, ran her fingers through the softness of his hair. His shoulders were so broad, his neck corded with muscle. But unlike Harman's steroid-enhanced physique, Sam's perfect body was real.
"I don't feel like a gentleman." His voice was deeper than normal, thick and hoarse. He teased her nipple to a peak through her clothes. "The things I want to do to you right now are as far from gentlemanly as you can get.”
― Sara Desai, The Marriage Game

“Her mouth dry, her gaze ventured inevitably down, past the curls on his chest and belly, clear to where his rod thrust high and hard against the white of one bare thigh.
Her recall was instantaneous- as if she'd ever forgotten. As if she ever could! With stark, unremitting clarity, she remembered precisely how it had felt to touch him there, her knuckles buried in the coarse nest of curls that thickened and surrounded the base of his erection.”
― Samantha James, The Seduction Of An Unknown Lady

“Lord, but he was a big, beautiful beast of a man.
There was just so much of him. Tall, broad, powerfully muscled. And utterly bare, save for that thin bit of toweling and his thick, dark hair. He had a great deal of hair. Not only plastered in damp curls on his head, but defining the hard line of his jaw. And lightly furring his chest.
He had nipples. Two of them.
Eyes, Penny. He has two of those, too. Focus on the eyes.
Sadly, that strategy didn't help.His eyes were chips of onyx. Chips of onyx dipped in ink, then encased in obsidian, then daubed with pitch, then thrown into a fathomless pit. At midnight.”
― Tessa Dare, The Wallflower Wager

“He ran his hand up her calf, over her knee, and up the sensitive slope of her thigh, until he cupped her mound in his palm. She gasped at the shock of pleasure. His fingers caressed her gently, stroking up and down the seam of her sex, teasing her with light passes until she was breathless.
She reached between their bodies, feeling for his trouser buttons and tugging at them with eager, inexpert fingers. At last, his placket fell open, and his erection sprang into her hand. Hot, hard, and heavy. She explored him the same way he touched her- skating her fingertips up and down his length, marveling at the silky softness of his skin and tracing the intriguing, yet entirely unfamiliar contours.
"Let me see you," she whispered.
He rose up on his knees, and his male organ jutted toward her.
The dark hair on his chest arrowed straight toward it, like a signpost indicating a point of natural interest:THIS WAY TO THE MANHOOD.
As if it could be missed.
Rude, large, framed by dark hair, and impressively male. No surprises, really. It simply looked like a part of him. An intimidatingly large part of him, considering what was about to occur and where she hoped he could put it. But it wasn't foreign or frightening. As was the case with all the other parts of his body, she found it bold, strong, unabashed in its nature, and arousing in the extreme.”
― Tessa Dare, The Wallflower Wager

“Ryker grunted, rolling his shoulders with a creaking sound just as the wings came back out. His silver eyes shone brighter than before, and the clawed fingertips I saw on my first day here emerged. He was gorgeous, brutal, otherworldly. Scars and all, he could be the subject of a sculpture in any museum and captivate the observer. What had I been bantering with all this time? Sharing meals, sharing the loft. Shit.
"Hello, Danica. You're looking at a dragon.”
― Sabrina Blackburry, Dirty Lying Dragons

“He should have appeared vulnerable in his nakedness, but he seemed more powerful now than when he'd had his clothes on. His body was hewn with brutal grace, large and muscular and superbly fit. His bronze tan ended at his waistline, fading into the paler skin of his hips. A wealth of thick dark hair covered his chest, and there was another heavy patch of it at his groin, around the dark, upthrust length of his erection.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Worth Any Price

“He stretched out his long legs under the table, settled on his tailbone. He shook his foot, rotated his ankle, as if he'd sat too long. The movement caught the cat's attention. Archie's back arched, his tail swung, ready to pounce. A long lunge, and Cade stiffened. "Dude, I'm not a scratching post."
"Archibald Reginald Rose," Amelia called him by his full name. She clapped her hands. "No!"
Grace tipped on her chair, caught the action under the table. This was no sweet kneading from the Maine coon. He bared his claws on Cade's thigh, close to the man's groin. Cade inched back, avoided kicking the cat. His jeans were white-seamed and laddered. Archie swatted, then latched on to the loose, swaying threads. He tugged. Denim split, shredded, leaving a sizable hole.
No underwear for this man. A shift of his weight, and Cade flashed Grace. Not purposely, yet she got an eyeful. In that moment, she learned more about him than she ever needed to know. He tucked left. His sex, substantial.”
― Kate Angell, The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine

“Where to touch? The worst of the waxy spikes were stuck from waist to groin. She swiped at his hip, managed to knock off a few. She made a wider sweep on his outer thigh, and cleared a few more. Her hand over his zipper. Shook.
Cade was still picking needles off his abdomen. He widened his stance. "Don't be shy." There was challenge in his tone.
He was getting even with her. She'd forced him to replace the bulbs. His request for her to remove the prickles seemed a fair exchange.
Her heart gave an unfamiliar flutter. Her stomach knotted. They presently stood between the tall box of headstones and a privacy hedge. They weren't visible from the road.
She decided to pick off the needles individually instead of making a palm-wide sweep. There'd be less touching. In her hurry, her knuckles bumped his sex. He sucked air. Enlarged. The tab on the zipper slid down an inch. He made the adjustment.
"Good enough." He pushed her hand away.
She sighed her relief.
He twisted, struggled with the prickles on his back, stretching to brush those between his shoulder blades. Frustrated by those he couldn't reach, he snagged the hem on his T-shirt and tugged it over his head. Shook it out. Grace's eyes rounded and her mouth went dry. Her had a magnificent chest.
Broad and bare, his chest tempted her. Her fingers itched to touch him. Even for a second. This was so unlike her. The need to satisfy her curiosity outweighed the consequences. She went with the urge. She traced his flat stomach and six-pack abs. His jeans hung low. Sharp hip bones, man dents, and sexy lick lines. The man was sculpted.
Cade clutched his shirt to his thigh. Stood still. She felt his gaze on her, but couldn't meet his eyes. Not after she flattened her hand over his abdomen, and his heat suffused her palm. His stomach contracted. Her fingers flexed. She scratched him. He groaned.”
― Kate Angell, The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine

“All thought flew from my mind when he pulled the shirt from over his head, revealing the elegant sweep of his back, the hard-packed muscles rippling under smooth skin. Arms, chiseled like a god's, reached down and...
"Oh, sweet baby Jesus," I murmured fervently.
He pushed his jeans off and bared an ass that was, frankly, spectacular. Those tight globes flexed as he kicked the jeans away with one long leg.
Turn away. Get out of here.
I shouldn't look. I coveted my privacy, and I was blatantly watching Lucian strip naked. He deserved his privacy too. But I couldn't blink. I couldn't move. He was...glorious. My fingers gripped the railing, holding on tight.
The light of the pool gave his skin an unworldly greenish cast. He rolled his shoulders...unf...and then dove in. The water rippled outward in his wake. I actually shivered with lust as I tracked him along the bottom of the pool, a pale arrow of flesh darting through the turquoise glow.
Silently, he surfaced on the far side of the pool, then neatly turned to do laps. Perfect form. Long strong arms. Clean, steady strokes.
Édith Piaf kept singing as Lucian set a steady but brutal pace. He went at it lap after lap. I grew fairly dizzy with rude thoughts about his stamina. The night was cool, but my flesh was hot. God, that water looked so good. I could practically feel it running over my fevered skin.”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“Then he planted his big hands on the side of the pool and, with an effortless push, thrust himself up and out of the water.
"Sweet mercy..." My knees went weak, and I gripped the rail to keep from falling over. Oh, Édith, I don't regret anything either.
His body was a Bernini sculpture come to life---Triton looking down on mere mortals. Water sluiced over rippling planes of muscles, trickled down dips and cut grooves, heading straight toward...
His dick. Even from far away, it was impressive. Long and thick with a wide head and plump balls. My lips parted, heat flushing my cheeks, and my nipples tightened.”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“Holding my gaze, he unbuttoned his jeans and let them slide to the floor.
Mistake. Huge mistake, ordering him to take those off. God, his thighs. Could you call a man's thick ripped thighs beautiful? I pressed mine together, trying to suppress the desire to straddle one of those lightly furred, powerful thighs and ride it.
Didn't work, though.”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“She stared after him, her eyes widening when his plaid suddenly dropped to pool around his feet. He then tugged his shirt off over his head, bent to grab up the heavy plaid and strode into the water carrying both.
Claray knew she should turn away, but couldn't seem to manage that as her eyes slid over his wide, muscular back and then down to the round curves of his derriere. They stopped there briefly before moving on to his strong thighs, and shapely calves. Claray had never thought she would call a man beautiful, but Conall was, and she found herself fascinated by the play of muscles in his back, buttocks and legs as he moved.”
― Lynsay Sands, Highland Wolf

“He had apparently finished cleaning his clothes and set them on the boulder while she fussed with her plaid. Now he was done bathing too and was coming out of the river, his front as fully on display as his behind had been as he'd gone in.
Claray's eyes ran over his chest and arms, taking in his wide shoulders and bulging pecs, then cascaded down over his rippling stomach to---Gasping, she whirled abruptly away and covered her eyes as if she could erase what she'd just seen. Good heavens, that was really... a terribly undignified appendage, she thought with a shake of the head.”
― Lynsay Sands, Highland Wolf

“Never had she found any man so utterly thrilling, especially like this; Rohan was more hungrily lustful for her and less civilized every moment. She urged him on, loving the fiery, untamed force of him, the hard, unyielding potency of the warrior. Losing herself in her want of him, she slipped her fingers inside the V of his loose white shirt, yearning for the chance to finally touch the gorgeous body she had so long craved.
She ran her palms over him, exploring. His muscled shoulders seemed carved of stone, but his smooth skin had the luxurious feel of kid leather. She moaned softly at the marvel of his heaving, sculpted chest.
He groaned in answer. "You're driving me mad. I want you now," he panted against her lips.
"Yes." Greedily, she peeled his shirt off him. But when he paused to lift it off over his head, she stared in dazed awe at his chisels abdomen. Oh,my.
Delights never ceased.
"Come here," he whispered in a low, raw, husky tone.
The order excited her terribly. At the moment, she did not at all mind him telling her what to do.”
― Gaelen Foley, My Dangerous Duke

“He slipped his fingers inside her dress, touched her skin very gently and exhaled a soft shaky sigh, almost of relief. He combed his fingers over her shoulder blades, down either side of her spine, the rough pads of his fingertips and the exquisite lightness of his touch turning every cell of her skin to glowing cinders, her legs to liquid. Susannah closed her eyes, wanting only to feel, wanting to heighten the pure exquisite pleasure of his hands on her skin.
And then his mouth was warm against her ear. "Susannah," he breathed there, her own name as sensual as his fingers. It traveled along the fuse of her nerve endings and lit a furnace inside her. Her lungs labored to breathe. She flattened her hands against his chest, savoring, at last, at last, the warm strong beauty of it. His skin was satiny over the rigid plane of his muscle, and again, this softness juxtaposed with strength... this was Kit.
"I like that," he murmured against her throat, where his mouth had traveled from her ear. He opened his lips against the soft skin there, put a hot kiss there. "Touch me anywhere you please."
"If you insist," she said. She was trying for insouciance, but the words were a squeak.
And he laughed, bloody man.
She indulged all of her weeks of stored longings and dragged one finger around the contours of his muscled chest, tracing a broad figure eight, then drew it down between his ribs, down the pale line of hair that led to the bulge of his trousers, stopping short of it, and was rewarded when he sucked in his breath. She opened her hands then and clasped them around his slim waist, let them wander down to cup his firm buttocks through his trousers. He mumbled some unintelligibly pleasured sound.”
― Julie Anne Long, Beauty and the Spy

“He made an immediate impression, biker tough. The men admired him. A sexual rush made women blush. He was a turn-on. There was a wildness to Jake that unsettled the ladies. A roughness that dared them to domesticate him.
Other guys were equally tall, broad shouldered, and muscled. It was Jake's face that set him apart. Angular and strong boned. Alpha and masculine. His sharp gaze undressed and penetrated a woman's deepest thoughts. His cheekbones slashed to a single dimple, unshaved jaw. Wicked grin. His mouth promised midnight arousal and morning satisfaction.”
― Kate Angell, The Café Between Pumpkin and Pie