Latest Quotes

“Her mouth moved down, then farther. He touched the top of her head, her fragile skull under wet hair, pulled her up gently. He wanted slowness, warmth, kissing. But she wouldn’t. She grasped him, though he wasn’t quite ready; she wasn’t either, she was dry, still cold. But she moved just slightly, s…”

— Lauren Groff, Arcadia

“'Kiss me,' he thought, anguished, because she wasn’t going to, he knew. She lightly bit his shoulder. She was lowering herself more. She was brushing her breasts across his face. He wanted to take one of her breasts into his mouth, either one. He was frantic. He wanted to get as much of one of her b…”

— Norman Rush, Mortals

“Quickly, without further discussion, not that some bed would have been a better choice, she has joined months of unvacuumed debris on the rug, face on the floor, ass in the air, skirt pushed up, Windust’s not-exactly-manicured nails ripping methodically at sheer taupe pantyhose it took her easily tw…”

— Thomas Pynchon, Bleeding Edge: A Novel

“I was in charge and he liked it. I held his hands down. He pretended he was trying to break free. I let my tits touch his face. He went mad; he bucked. He split me in two. I pushed down. I couldn’t believe it. One of his fingers flicked over my bum. I did it to him. He lifted and heaved. I couldn’t…”

— Roddy Doyle, The Woman Who Walked into Doors

“Then Creta Kano mounted me and used her hand to slip me inside her. Once she had me deep inside, she began a slow rotation of her hips. As she moved, the edges of the pale-blue dress caressed my naked stomach and thighs. With the skirts of the dress spread out around her, Creta Kano, riding atop me,…”

— Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle: A Novel

“He had lifted her skirts as she stood with her back to the wall and now had his fingers between her legs. 'Come to me,' she whispered, her breath hot in his ear. 'Into me now.' He removed her fumbling fingers from his trousers and freed himself.”

— Sebastian Faulks, Birdsong: A Novel of Love and War

“Her hair was piled high, but when she shook her head it came cascading down in a glowing wave over her shoulders, and fell as far as her knees. This rippling curtain did not cover her breasts which thrust their way through it like living creatures. They were perfect rounds, white as mare's milk and…”

— Wilbur Smith, Desert God: A Novel of Ancient Egypt

“His grand movement, which seemed to rise out of a thicket of curling hair, that spread from the root all over his thighs and belly up to the navel, stood stiff and upright, but of a size to frighten me, by sympathy for the small tender part which was the object of its fury, and which now lay exposed…”

— John Cleland, Fanny Hill: Or, Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure

“I run my fingers just down the long place where the insides of your thighs touch, all the way to your knees, and then I’d let go of your legs, and they’d fall slightly apart, and as my hands started to move up inside them, with my fingers splayed wide, they’d move farther and farther apart, and then…”

— Nicholson Baker, Vox

“He pulled his head up from my breast and leaned up and over me, still holding my hands captive. I twisted, aching and raw. ‘Fuck me, you’re a hot piece of ass,’ he muttered. I closed my eyes, trying to catch him with my hips, whimpering for him to take me.”

— Joanna Wylde, Reaper's Property (Reapers Motorcycle Club Book 1)

“He covered one of her breasts with a telekinetic hand, stroking down to squeeze her nipple. She clenched around him, her wetness molten, It took Kaleb’s brain a micro-second to make the connected. Giving her neglected breast the same treatment, he rubbed at her clitoris with a phantom finger, while…”

— Nalini Singh, Heart of Obsidian

“'But one more thing.’ Derek leaned forward, resting his hands on either side of her on the counter, then dipped his head lower. Ginger’s mind reeled as he ran his tongue upward in one long lick of her neck. ‘The longer it takes me to get between your thighs, the rougher I’m going to be when I finall…”

— Tessa Bailey, Protecting What's His

“He bit at Ty’s lower lip. Bit hard. Ty’s fingers dragged down his shoulder and he let Ty’s lip go. He thrust again, his cock growing painfully hard inside his jeans. He reached between their bodies to loosen his belt and pull the zipper, then pushed his jeans and boxers down. Ty’s eyes were dark and…”

— Abigail Roux, Sidewinder (3 Book Series)

“And he was kissing me again, and slipping the shorty nightgown over my head. His strong and gentle hands began to stroke me, his hands, his lips, his tongue. Gentle. Not frightening. Knowing what he was doing. I felt my nipples rise, and it startled me.”

— Madeleine L'Engle, A House Like a Lotus

“He reached over and touched his finger very delicately to the edge of one of its straps, near my collarbone, but instead of pushing it down and off my shoulder as I thought he would, he ran his finger slowly along then upper edge of my bra in front and then traced it all the way down around the bott…”

— Cheryl Strayed, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail

“She slid further down, introducing herself to the rest of him. His neck. His nipples. His chocolate brown stomach. She sipped the last of the river from the hollow of his navel. She pressed the heat of his erection against her eyelids. She tasted him, salty, in her mouth. He sat up and drew her back…”

— Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things: A Novel

“He puts his hands under her knees and maneuvers her carefully so that her bottom rests on the edge of the settee. He slips his fingers underneath the worn elastic of her panties that are strung across the points of her hips, slips them to her ankles and softly draws apart her knees and feels again a…”

— Nick Cave, The Death of Bunny Munro: A Novel

“He kissed her ear, as he said, "I don't want either of us to ever forget this night." She answered by plastering her mouth on his and kissing him in a way she'd never thought possible, her hips moving against him, knowing there must be more. Ben settled himself between her legs. She cradled his hips…”

— Cathy Maxwell, The Match of the Century (Marrying the Duke)

“Noelle is at our side, watching, touching herself. Only once does she lean forward and suckle at his shoulder. His mouth leaves mine and finds hers. He earns a delicious purr before I pull on his hair to get him back to me.”

— Sara Dobie Bauer, Wolf Among Sheep

“'You are mine,' he grunts out, pumping into me, the length and level of his arousal brutal. 'Mine,' he swears, as he releases my mouth and turns me around, pushing me forward as he yanks my legs back, one hand hard on my back, the other gripping my ass. He doesn’t slow the movement, giving me full,…”

— Alessandra Torre, Sex Love Repeat