Bailey > Bailey's Quotes

“I hate and love. And why, perhaps you’ll ask.
I don’t know: but I feel, and I’m tormented.”
― Catullus

“Say it." His teasing tone took on a rougher undercurrent. "Say the words. Say you're mine."
Alarms clanged in her heart. She knew he needed to feel strong and powerful right now, but truly. There was possessive, and then there was...medieval. "It's so belittling, Bram. I wish you wouldn't say that."
"You just wish you didn't like it so much." He added a second finger to the first. "Mine. Mine. Mine." He thrust his fingers deeper with each repetition. Her intimate muscles clenched around them, and she gasped with pleasant shock.
"See?" he gloated.
Drat it. For a man, he was right entirely too often. It did feel so good. But ever since her illness and those horrid treatments, she'd set a great deal of comfort in the idea that her body was hers. No one else's.
"Say it," he whispered, nuzzling her ear. His thumb circled her pearl. "Susanna fair. I want to hear you say you're mine."
She framed his face in her hands and looked him in the eye. "I'll say this. I claim sole possession of my body, my heart, and my soul. And tonight, I choose to share them all with you."
His fingers slid from her body, leaving her feeling hollow inside. "God. That's..."
"Disappointing? Intimidating? Too much, too soon?"
He shook his head, moving in for a kiss. "I was going to say, it's even better." His tongue traced her bottom lip. "So much better."

-Bram & Susanna”
― Tessa Dare, A Night to Surrender

“A library is a place where you can lose your innocence without losing your virginity.”
― Germaine Greer

“You laid black powder charges. To move a flock of sheep." Pulling her hand from his grip, she studied the craters in the road. "Sir, I remain unconvinced of your sanity. But there's no question you are male."
He raised a brow. "That much was never in doubt."
Her only answer was a faint deepening of her blush.
"I assure you, all the lunacy is my cousin's. Lord Payne was merely teasing, having a bit of sport at my expense."
"I see. And you were having a bit of sport at my expense, pretending to be injured."
"Come, now." He leaned toward her and murmured, "Are you going to pretend you didn't enjoy it?"
Her eyebrows lifted. And lifted, until they formed perfect twin archer's bows, ready to dispatch poison-tipped darts. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

-Susanna & Bram”
― Tessa Dare, A Night to Surrender

“I'll tell you what's most important of all. It's this." He flexed those barrel-like biceps, drawing her body flush against a solid wall of muscle and heat. "Not women, not men, but what lies between two people who want each other more than air. You can argue with me all you want, but you can't fight this. I know you feel it."

-Bram to Susanna”
― Tessa Dare, A Night to Surrender

“I am a rare species, not a stereotype.”
― Ivan Coyote

“Reader's Bill of Rights

1. The right to not read

2. The right to skip pages

3. The right to not finish

4. The right to reread

5. The right to read anything

6. The right to escapism

7. The right to read anywhere

8. The right to browse

9. The right to read out loud

10. The right to not defend your tastes”
― Daniel Pennac

“How grateful are you?" he whispered, his mouth hovering over mine. His eyes were very alert now, and his gaze was boring into mine.

"That kind of ruins it, when you say something like that," I said, trying to keep my voice gentle. "You shouldn't want me to have sex with you just because I owe you."

"I don't really care why you have sex with me, as long as you do it," he said, equally gently.”
― charlaine harris, Club Dead

“When a woman has not received much flattery in her life, she will be seduced.”
― Melina Marchetta, Froi of the Exiles

“I MEAN not to defend the scapes of any,
Or justify my vices being many;
For I confess, if that might merit favour,
Here I display my lewd and loose behaviour.
I loathe, yet after that I loathe, I run: 5
Oh, how the burthen irks, that we should shun.
I cannot rule myself but where Love please;
Am driven like a ship upon rough seas.
No one face likes me best, all faces move,
A hundred reasons make me ever love. 10
If any eye me with a modest look,
I blush, and by that blushful glance am took;
And she that’s coy I like, for being no clown,
Methinks she would be nimble when she’s down.
Though her sour looks a Sabine’s brow resemble, 15
I think she’ll do, but deeply can dissemble.
If she be learned, then for her skill I crave her;
If not, because she’s simple I would have her.
Before Callimachus one prefers me far;
Seeing she likes my books, why should we jar? 20
Another rails at me, and that I write,
Yet would I lie with her, if that I might:
Trips she, it likes me well; plods she, what then?
She would be nimbler lying with a man.
And when one sweetly sings, then straight I long, 25
To quaver on her lips even in her song;
Or if one touch the lute with art and cunning,
Who would not love those hands for their swift running?
And her I like that with a majesty,
Folds up her arms, and makes low courtesy. 30
To leave myself, that am in love with all,
Some one of these might make the chastest fall.
If she be tall, she’s like an Amazon,
And therefore fills the bed she lies upon:
If short, she lies the rounder: to speak troth, 35
Both short and long please me, for I love both.
I think what one undecked would be, being drest;
Is she attired? then show her graces best.
A white wench thralls me, so doth golden yellow:
And nut-brown girls in doing have no fellow. 40
If her white neck be shadowed with brown hair,
Why so was Leda’s, yet was Leda fair.
Amber-tress’d is she? Then on the morn think I:
My love alludes to every history:
A young wench pleaseth, and an old is good, 45
This for her looks, that for her womanhood:
Nay what is she, that any Roman loves,
But my ambitious ranging mind approves?”
― Ovid

“He was, like everyone of a strongly erotic disposition, twice as good, twice as much himself when he knew that women liked him, just as many actors find their most ardent vein when they sense that they have cast their spell over the audience, the breathing mass of spectators before them.”
― Stefan Zweig, The Burning Secret and other stories

“I want the evening upon which we lose our collective virginities to be special. I'm no parthenologist but I suspect that Jordana's virginity is still intact. Her biological knowledge is minimal. She thinks that a perineum is to do with glacial moraine.”
― Joe Dunthorne, Submarine

“I have no fear of men, as such, nor of their books. I have mixed with them--one or two of them particularly-- almost as one of their own sex. I mean I have not felt about them as most women are taught to feel--to be on their guard against attacks on their virtue; for no average man-- no man short of a sensual savage--will molest a woman by day or night, at home or abroad, unless she invites him. Until she says by a look 'Come on' he is always afraid to, and if you never say it, or look it, he never comes.”
― Thomas Hardy, Jude the Obscure

“Do people in the twenty-first century still dance?"

My heart beat thundered in my ears, far louder than the slow music. "Um," I said, barely able to swallow, my throat had gone so dry. "Sometimes."

"How about now?" he asked.

And then his strong arms were encircling my waist, his breath soft against my cheek as he gently whispered my name: "Susannah. Susannah....”
― Meg Cabot

“What did I do now?” He reluctantly pulled the car the curb.

I needed to get out of this car – like now. I couldn’t breathe.

I unbuckled and flung open the door.

“Thanks for the ride. Bye.”

I slammed the door shut and began down the sidewalk. Behind me, I heard the engine turn off and his door open and shut. I quickened my stride as James jogged up to me. I slowed down knowing I couldn’t escape his long legs anyway. Plus, I didn’t want to get home all sweaty and have to explain myself.

“What happened?” James asked, matching my pace.

“Leave me alone!” I snapped back. I felt his hand grab my elbow, halting me easily.

“Stop,” he ordered.

Damn it, he’s strong!

“What are you pissed about now?” He towered over me. I was trapped in front of him, if he tugged a bit, I’d be in his embrace.

“It’s so funny huh? I’m that bad? I’m a clown, I’m so funny!” I jerked my arm, trying to break free of his grip. “Let me go!”

“No!” He squeezed tighter, pulling me closer.

“Leave me alone!” I spit the words like venom, pulling my arm with all my might.

“What’s your problem?” James demanded loudly. His hand tightened on my arm with each attempt to pull away. My energy was dwindling and I was mentally exhausted. I stopped jerking my arm back, deciding it was pointless because he was too strong; there was no way I could pull my arm back without first kneeing him in the balls.

We were alone, standing in the dark of night in a neighborhood that didn’t see much traffic.

“Fireball?” he murmured softly.

“What?” I replied quietly, defeated.

Hesitantly, he asked, “Did I say something to make you sad?”

I wasn’t going to mention the boyfriend thing; there was no way.

“Yes,” I whimpered.

That’s just great, way to sound strong there, now he’ll have no reason not to pity you!

“I’m sorry,” came his quiet reply.

Well maybe ‘I’m sorry’ just isn’t good enough. The damage is already done!

“Whatever.”

“What can I do to make it all better?”

“There’s nothing you could–” I began but was interrupted by him pulling me against his body. His arms encircled my waist, holding me tight. My arms instinctively bent upwards, hands firmly planted against his solid chest. Any resentment I had swiftly melted away as something brand new took its place: pleasure.

Jesus!

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked him softly; his face was only a few inches from mine.

“What do you think you’re doing?” James asked back, looking down at my hands on his chest. I slowly slid my arms up around his neck.

I can’t believe I just did that!

“That’s better.”

Our bodies were plastered against one another; I felt a new kind of nervousness touch every single inch of my body, it prickled electrically.

“James,” I murmured softly.

“Fireball,” he whispered back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I repeated; my brain felt frozen. My heart had stopped beating a mile a minute instead issuing slow, heavy beats.

James uncurled one of his arms from my waist and trailed it along my back to the base of my neck, holding it firmly yet delicately. Blood rushed to the very spot he was holding, heat filled my eyes as I stared at him.

“What are you doing?” My bewilderment was audible in the hush.

I wasn’t sure I had the capacity to speak anymore. That function had fled along with the bitch. Her replacement was a delicate flower that yearned to be touched and taken care of. I felt his hand shift on my neck, ever so slightly, causing my head to tilt up to him. Slowly, inch by inch, his face descended on mine, stopping just a breath away from my trembling lips.

I wanted it. Badly. My lips parted a fraction, letting a thread of air escape.

“Can I?” His breath was warm on my lips.

Fuck it!

“Yeah,” I whispered back. He closed the distance until his lush lips covered mine.

My first kiss…damn!

His lips moved softly over mine. I felt his grip on my neck squeeze as his lips pressed deeper into”
― Sarah Tork, Young Annabelle

“Another time, another place, I'd back you to that wall right there, or any place you wanted to go, and do everything in my power to wipe him from your mind.”
― J.L. Saint, Collateral Damage

“Cupping my cheeks, he exhaled a soft groan, and his lips scorched mine as he deepened the kiss until we both were breathless from its intensity. Daemon moved as close as he could with the chair between us. Gripping his arms, I held onto him, wanting him closer. The chair prevented all but our lips and hands from touching. Frustrating.
Move, I ordered restlessly.
It trembled under my foot, and then the heavy oak chair slid out from under me, dodging our leaning bodies. Unprepared for the sudden void, Daemon lurched forward, and I was unable to carry the unexpected weight. I collapsed backward, bringing Daemon along with me.
The full contact of his body, flush against mine, sent my senses into chaotic overdrive. His tongue swept over mine as his fingers splayed across my cheeks. His hand slid down my side, gripping my hip as he urged me closer. The kisses slowed and his chest rose as he drank me in.
With one last lingering exploration, he lifted his head and smiled down at me.
My heart skipped a beat as he hovered over me with an expression that tugged deep in my chest. He moved his finger back up, along my cheek, trailing an invisible path to my chin.
"I didn't move that chair, Kitten."
"I know."
"I'm assuming you didn't like where it was?"
"It was in your way," I said. My hands were still curled around his arms.
"I can see that." Daemon smoothed a fingertip over the curve of my bottom lip before taking my hand, pulling me up.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Onyx

“Dogs find me irresistible." He lowered his voice to a conspiring whisper, aiming to put her at ease. "It's an alpha thing." Which was true, but was totally outrageous for him to claim.”
― J.L. Saint, Collateral Damage

“You deserve to be treated like the fucking warrior goddess you are—beautiful, strong, perfect. You deserve a man that can worship your body all night softly, then pull your hair back and fuck you till you scream out in release, over and over. You deserve an equal in life, but a man to dominate you in bed. You deserve the flowers and the fucks.”
― Jessica Florence, The Final KO

“How far will you run, before you realize you're not running away from me? You're running to me.”
― Joey W. Hill, Ice Queen

“My name...my name is Mary. I'm here with a friend.'
Rhage stopped breathing. His heart skipped a beat and then slowed. "Say that again,' he whispered.
'Ah, my name is Mary Luce. I'm a friend of Bella's...We came here with a boy, with John Matthew. We were invited.'
Rhage shivered, a balmy rush blooming out all over his skin. The musical lilt of her voice, the rhythm of her speech, the sound of her words, it all spread through him, calming him, comforting him. Chaining him sweetly.
He closed his eyes. 'Say something else.'
'What?' she asked, baffled.
'Talk. Talk to me. I want to hear your voice.'
She was silent, and he was about to demand that she speak when she said, 'You don't look well. Do you need a doctor?'
He found himself swaying. The words didn't matter. It was her sound: low, soft, a quiet brushing in his ears. He felt as if here being stroked on the inside of his skin.
'More,' he said, twisting his palm around to the front of her neck so he could feel the vibrations in her throat better.
'Could you... could you please let go of me?'
'No.' He brought his other arm up. She was wearing some kind of fleece, and he moved the collar aside, putting his hand on her shoulder so she couldn't get away from him. 'Talk.'
She started to struggle. 'You're crowding me.'
'I know. Talk.'
'Oh for God's sake, what do you want me to say?'
Even exasperated, her voice was beautiful. 'Anything.'
'Fine. Get your hand off my throat and let me go or I'm going to knee you where it counts.'
He laughed. Then sank his lower body into her, trapping her with his thighs and hips. She stiffened against him, but he got an ample feel of her. She was built lean, though there was no doubt she was female. Her breasts hit his chest, her hips cushioned his, her stomach was soft.
'Keep talking,' he said in her ear. God, she smelled good. Clean. Fresh. Like lemon.
When she pushed against him, he leaned his full weight into her. Her breath came out in a rush.
'Please,' he murmured.
Her chest moved against his as if she were inhaling. 'I... er, I have nothing to say. Except get off of me.'
He smiled, careful to keep his mouth closed. There was no sense showing off his fangs, especially if she didn't know what he was. 'So say that.'
'What?'
'Nothing. Say nothing. Over and over and over again. Do it.'
She bristled, the scent of fear replaced by a sharp spice, like fresh, pungent mint from a garden. She was annoyed now. 'Say it.'
"Fine. Nothing. Nothing.' Abruptly she laughed, and the sound shot right through to his spine, burning him. 'Nothing, nothing. No-thing. No-thing. Noooooothing. There, is that good enought for you? Will you let me go now?”
― J.R. Ward, Lover Eternal

“I was wrong. I should have never doubted you. I do trust you. I love you, and I can't do this anymore. I don't want to be..." He struggled to find the right words. "...without you." And then, finally, his arms slackened, releasing her, giving her the choice again. She felt his shoulders slump, and his heart shudder. "Please...”
― Kimberly Derting, Desires of the Dead

“Put me down.”
“Nope.” He held her snuggled to his bare chest, tipping her up so he could rub his cheek against hers. “I like carrying you.”
― Cherise Sinclair, Doms of Dark Haven 2: Western Nights

“What do we have here?” Grant slurs at me. He seems different and it raises flags in my mind. His fingers wrap around a section of my hair and it scares me. His face is flushed red and his eyes are glassy and bright. I can smell the smoky scent of whiskey or scotch rolling off his tongue as he speaks and breathes heavily.
“I’m lost and I need a ride home.” My voice wavers as I speak and I hate it. I fist my hands in the hem of my blazer.
“I’ll get Albert for you, but first spend some time with me,” he slurs again, sounding like his tongue is too large for his mouth. As if sensing my attention, the tip of his tongue sneaks out and slides along his supple bottom lip. He smiles as he tastes the alcohol that’s staining his mouth. His eyes are bright and shiny and glazed over. He has a smirk on his face that shows off his dimple. It no longer reminds me of Whitt. It seems sinister and dangerous- promising something I’m not ready to experience.
The feel of his fingers playing with my hair gives me goosebumps and I shiver as my scalp tightens, sucking up the pleasant attention. I do my first stupid-girl moment of my life. I shameless crush on a guy and let it turn my thoughts to mush.
“Okay, if you promise to call Albert first.” I try to negotiate with him and he gives me a naughty smirk for agreeing.
He backs me up with his physical presence. His front touches mine- chest-to-chest. His lips part and breathes the smoky, whiskey scent onto my chin. My back hits the door behind me with an audible thump. He reaches around me and I don’t wince. I anticipate him touching me and crave it. Instead, his hand twists the doorknob by my hip and I fall backwards.
I’m pushed into a dark room until my legs connect with the edge of a bed. I can’t see anything, and the only sound is our combined breathing. I feel alive with caution. I’m aware of every hair, every nerve on my flesh. My senses are so in-tuned that I can feel my system pumping the blood through my veins nourishing my whole body.”
― Erica Chilson, Jaded

“She stepped toward Anna.
“I can get you a night with an accomplished male whore or a virginal schoolboy.” Coral’s eyes widened and seemed to flame. “Famous libertines or ragpickers off the street. One very special man or ten complete strangers. Dark men, red men, yellow men, men you’ve only dreamed of in the black of night, lonely in your bed, snug under your covers. Whatever you long for. Whatever you desire. Whatever you crave. You have only to ask me.”
Anna stared at Coral like a mesmerized mouse before a particularly beautiful snake.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, The Raven Prince

“What do you know about me, Isabeau?"

He leaned forward, and I forced myself to stay still instead of shying away. He was so close that I could smell the subtle notes of his cologne: musk and wood with a hint of leather.

What did he want me to say? That everyone said he was an ogre? Or that they all wanted to sleep with him anyway?

"I..."

"Go on. You won't hurt my feelings."

He was still smiling, slight dimples visible in both cheeks. The sight was destracting, to say the least.

"I know that you're the youngest CEO and partner in the company's history, and I know that you earned the spot by working your way up after graduate school instead of using your inheritance as a crutch."

"Everyone knows that. What do you know about me? The real stuff. None of this press release bullshit."

I looked down at my hands, anything not to have to look up at his face so close to me.

"Um. People say... they say that you're scary. And that your assistants don't last long."

He laughed, a deep, warm sound that seemed to fill up the office. I glanced up to see him smirking at me. I relaxed my grip on the desk a little. Maybe I wasn't being fired after all.

"What else do they say?"

Oh, God. He can't possibly want me to tell him everything. Does he? The look on his face confirmed that he did. It was clear by the way he looked at me that I wasn't leaving this office until I gave him exactly what he wanted.

"They say. Um... They say that you're very, uh, good looking... and impossible to please."

"Oh they do, do they?" He sat back, and tented his fingers beneath his chin. "Well, do you agree with them? Do you think I'm scary, handsome and woefully unsatisfied?"

My mouth dropped open, and I quickly closed it with a snap.

"Yes. I mean, no! I mean, I don't know..."

He stood, then, and leaned in close, towering over me. "You were right the first time."

Anxiety coursed through me, but I have to admit, being this close to him, smelling his scent and feeling the heat radiating off his body, it made me wonder what it would be like to be in his arms. To be his. To be owned by him...

His face was almost touching mine when he whispered to me. "I am unsatisfied, Isabeau. I want you to be my new assistant. Will you do that for me? Will you be at my beck and call?"

My breath left me as his words sunk in. When I finally regained it, I felt like I was trembling from head to toe. His beck and call.

"Wh-what about your old assistant?"

Mr. Drake leaned back again and took my chin in his hand, forcing my eyes to his. "What about her? I want you."

His touch on my skin was electric. Are we still talking about business?

"Yes, Mr. Drake."

His thumb stroked my cheek for the briefest of moments, and then he released me, breathless, and wondering what I'd just agreed to.”
― Delilah Fawkes, At His Service

“School went exactly as Violet thought it would: weird. It wasn’t her best, and it wasn’t her worst, day ever. It was just weird.
Jay was true to his word, deciding not to hold anything back. And it started the second they got out of the car, when he claimed her hand and refused to let go, even when Violet tugged and pulled to try to get it away from him. He ignored her mute protests and held on tight, smiling more to himself than to her, and paraded her right into the school like that.
Not that they’d never held hands before, because they had. But this was entirely different, and Jay was hell-bent on making sure that everyone knew it. And just in case anyone wondered what the hand-holding actually meant, he made sure to clear things up for them by planting a big, albeit very satisfying, kiss on her lips, right in the middle of the hallway. Violet didn’t try to pull away from that; in fact, she was dismayed to find herself leaning into him, craving more, and not caring—at least at that moment—who might see them together.
Unfortunately that person turned out to be Chelsea. Chelsea, of all people, along with Claire, who happened to walk up at very inopportune instant.
“Well, well, well,” Chelsea said in an oh-so-innocent voice. “Look what we have here, Claire-bear. It’s old Jay and Violet.” The unconcealed smile was embedded deep in her voice. “Only, and correct me if I’m wrong, this looks a little more than friendly, don’t you think?”
“I never kiss my friends like that,” Claire replied, blank-faced and serious, oblivious to sarcasm.
Jay’s answer was to pull Violet closer, wrapping his arm around her waist. Violet cringed.
Chelsea cocked her head at Claire. “I was just trying to make a point.”
Claire looked confused. “What point?”
“Seriously, Claire? That Violet and Jay are dating now.” She glanced away from poor confused Claire and flashed a gloating look to the couple in front of her. “It’s about time, by the way. I think everyone will thank you for putting us all out of our misery. I, for one, was completely fed up with watching you two lovesick puppies pining over each other. Seriously, it was disgusting.”
She grabbed Claire by the sleeve of her snug, body-hugging hoodie and led her down the hallway, toward their first-period class. Violet watched in stunned silence, processing everything that Chelsea had said to them, as Claire bounded along in Chelsea’s commanding wake.
Jay decided that it was his turn to gloat. “You pined for me?” he asked, stupid grin and all.
Violet hit him in the arm. “Shut up!” She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure she was talking about you anyway.”
― Kimberly Derting, The Body Finder

“Edward got up from his desk, limped across to hers, and placed both hands, palms down, upon it. He leaned over until his eyes were only inches from her hazel ones. “I am not ashamed,” he said very slowly. “I did not fall off my horse. I was not thrown from my horse. I wish to end this discussion. Is that amenable to you, Mrs. Wren?” Anna swallowed visibly, drawing his eyes to her throat. “Yes. Yes, that’s quite amenable to me, Lord Swartingham.” “Good.” His gaze rose to her lips, wet where she had licked them in her nervousness. “I thought of you while I was gone. Did you think of me? Did you miss me?” “I—” she started to whisper.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, The Raven Prince

“He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her into him with an unyielding strength. She’d been unmistakably seized.”
― Elizabeth SaFleur, Lovely

“I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding.”
― Anaïs Nin