My task is set before me, girl My mission clear and true There’ll be black knights and dragons, girl But I will always come for you…
Does he tell you that you’re allhe thinks about? Does he tell you that he lives for you?That he breathes for you? That he dreams of you everydamn moment, awake and asleep? Does he tell you anyof that?’ He pauses to look at me and I try to keep a blankface. ‘No, I didn’t think so,’ he says quietly.
My knees were weak but he held me with one hand, guiding me with the motion of his hips. I was completely his to do with what he wanted and he knew it.
When George spotted the pinup girl of his fondest fantasies across that cheesy bar, he had no idea what his pickup line was going to be. All he knew was that he had to get to her, right that second, and stake his claim. He didn’t give two shits if she was meeting someone, or was there with friends. That bird was going to be his.
Morgan closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right,” she sighed, “We should probably wait.” Owen drew back, and she could feel him studying her. She waited as long as she could stand it before she opened her eyes and grinned. He chuckled, low in his throat, a predatory gleam in his eye.
Owen folded his arms around Morgan to steady her when she crashed into him, and was enveloped by her scent, her warm softness. When she gave a scared little scream, he tightened his arms in a protective reflex. She fit him perfectly, he noted distractedly. And she was soaked: he'd seen her come in from the rain, her expression frantic, just as he had rushed in the front door. His shirt was plastered to his chest between them.
He would reach for me in the middle of the night, nearly every single night, wrapping one of those solid arms around my waist and pulling me in close. So. Close.
He made me feel unhinged . . . like he could take me apart and put me back together again and again.
I don't think that science and the paranormal have to be at war; in fact, it's crucial that they work together. It seems naïve to believe that the world is exactly as it seems.
When we can't understand the science behind something in this world, we make up mythological entities that we can relate to. We personify the forces of nature that mystify us, using our boundless imaginations to comfort us and make us feel like we have some control over these things that are much bigger than we are.
Morgan closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right,” she sighed, “We should probably wait.” Owen drew back, and she could feel him studying her. She waited as long as she could stand it before she opened her eyes and grinned. He chuckled, low in his throat, a predatory gleam in hi
So, daddy, huh?C’mon Blue-Eyes, don’t be like that. You kept screaming ‘more’ and it was the dirtiest thing I could think of.
I always wondered why I didn't try to seduce you, since you're so good-looking, more appealing than any woman.
We fell into each other’s arms and kissed like we were coming up for air after being underwater for days. The melding of our mouths was sweeter than oxygen. We took huge, deep gulps of each other as we struggled with worldly constraints like clothing and gravity, seeking to transcend it all in our coming together.
When you touch a man's body, he will enjoy the moment, when you touch a man's heart he will remember it forever.
You know what?” he whispered, out of breath, “You’re about to be in a whole lot of trouble. We probably better go.
She and I will become one someday soon. So much so, that none will know where I begin and she ends. This I know…
It’s a slow sultry song. She opens her mouth and what comes out can only be described as dripping with sex. The climax of the song comes and the college boys are cat calling her but she doesn't seem to notice at all. She’s completely in the song, eyes half mast, a slight smile on her lips, and hips methodically rolling to the beat. She’s pure sex and every male in the bar is thinking the same thing I am. What would she be like in my bed. She absent mindedly trails her hand from her collarbone down between her breasts to her belly. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My jeans instantly get too tight in the crotch and I adjust myself discreetly while everyone’s eyes are still on her.
Without a torch, I stumbled along the paths. The night was dismal. A partial moon hovered bitter and white on the horizon. It was the perfect night for murder.
Horeb bent over me and ran his hand down my neck, not stopping when his fingers reached my chest. I jerked backward. What are you doing?His eyes were black and intense. A little taste before the wedding, Jayden?
You must be very secure in your masculinity to parade around in those budgie smugglers.”“Oh, I’m very secure.” He see-sawed the towel over his back. “And I’m happy to show you the rear view of my budgie smugglers—oh wait—you already saw it when you were checking out my ass.
Then Ben’s mouth descended again and her thoughts, as fickle as tiny fish, swam out of her head. Gentle brushes of his lips turned into more insistent strokes of his mouth. Sexually frustrated widow or not, there was little doubt the man could kiss her into a melted puddle of goo.
Arms still crossed, Lindsay's clogs tapped on the sidewalk. “So Sam didn’t tell you I was a desperate orphan child with no life outside of work? This isn’t some kind of intervention, some lame attempt to cheer me up?” He grinned.“Why would she do that?” “Because that’s how it sounded.” Nudging her shoulder, he grinning down at her. “You don’t look desperate, Dr. Lindsay, not by a long shot. “That’s because you don’t know me.” Lindsay bit her lower lip, arms still crossed, clogs still tap-tap-tapping. Her chest heaved. “My parent’s died in a car accident almost two years ago. It’s a difficult thing to get over. I’m still not exactly right. I guess she worries about me.” Ty sucked in his breath, thinking fast. “I’m really sorry about your parents, Linds.” As he put an arm around her shoulder, she broke into a self-conscious smile, and shook her head. “Spend any time with me at all and you’ll find that Sam’s right. I’m a desperate orphan child, completely paranoid and irrepressibly horny.” “Whoa!” She looked so cute, but vulnerable, too, against him. He closed the arm around her shoulder, squeezing her sideways to his chest. Embarrassed, she smiled as she elbowed his rib. Then she dropped her arms and stayed put, tucked close against him. It felt right, having her there.
The feel of her skin as she struggled beneath, the life inside, the death without. The breaching of life and death, of survival uncaged inside him: a dark beast with violence and sex in its soul. In his soul.
Derrick, you have to make the air move out of her tummy. You are not assaulting her. You're saving her from a stomach ache. ~Anne Howard
Does he make you see stars?’ he asks in a low voice. ‘Does he call you his north star? Because that’s what you are to me. You’re the reason I made it home.
I feel his body pressed against mine. His heat burns against my flesh; searing, seducing. Permanently making it his.
I always thought 'love at first sight' was silly and incredibly irresponsible. Then, you came along and you flipped it on me. I understand it now. I do! ~Sheriff Derrick Decker
Just as normal as anyone... only I write my thoughts out on paper & illustrate a world of Romance in your mind as you read my creations. ~ A. L. Woodz
There was a war between them, between love and the right thing to do, and it kept assaulting them, kept keeping them apart.
Owen folded his arms around Morgan to steady her when she crashed into him, and was enveloped by her scent, her warm softness. When she gave a scared little scream, he tightened his arms in a protective reflex. She fit him perfectly, he noted distractedly. And she was soaked: he'd seen her come in from the rain, her expression frantic, just as he had rushed in the front door. His shirt was plastered to his chest between
Sweat dripped down his chest. She never thought she could envy a piece of fabric, until she saw the T-shirt kissing his skin the way she wanted to.
Here’s the thing about falling for someone who’s already given up; there’s no promise of tomorrow. There aren’t any words of comfort that can be said, no glimpse of a positive change. Every moment, every thought could be their last. It’s like you’re helplessly walking into quicksand, waiting for the muck to cover your mouth and eyes until you can no longer find a way to breathe. No, it’s more like jumping from a high bridge without the promise of water underneath.And I fucking hate heights.