Ashley

“No. No!” he says.
“I . . .” He looks wildly around the room. For inspiration? For divine intervention? I don’t know.

“You can’t go. Ana, I love you!”
“I love you, too, Christian, it’s just—”
“No . . . no!” he says in desperation and puts both hands on his head. “Christian . . .”
“No,” he breathes, his eyes wide with panic, and suddenly he drops to his knees in front of me, head bowed, long-fingered hands spread out on his thighs. He takes a deep breath and doesn’t move. What?
“Christian, what are you doing?”
He continues to stare down, not looking at me.
“Christian! What are you doing?”
My voice is high-pitched. He doesn’t move.
“Christian, look at me!” I command in panic. His head sweeps up without hesitation, and he regards me passively with his cool gray gaze—he’s almost serene . . . expectant.
Holy Fuck . . . Christian. The submissive.”
― E.L. James, Fifty Shades Darker

“People liked religion but they didn't want to have to exercise any faith. Religion was comforting with all its structure and its rules. It made people feel safe. But faith wasn't safe. Faith was hard and uncomfortable and forced people to step out on a limb.”
― Amy Harmon, The Law of Moses

“I know you love me, Jocelyn, because there’s no fucking way I can be this much in love with you, and not have you feel the same way. It’s not possible.”
― Samantha Young, On Dublin Street

“What the fuck are you doing?” His hands wanted to hold her, his arms wanted to wrap her up, but he squeezed the edge of the bed. Whatever game she was playing, he wasn’t going to fall for it. She wouldn’t make him a fool. Not more than she already had. “I told you. Sweet is good. Sweet can be better. I don’t think you know that.” Her hands were around his face, and it made his chest tight. He didn’t understand that, either. Coming here had not eased his confusion; he was more confused now than ever. Maybe ever in his whole motherfucking life. “Fuck you.” She smiled. “Maybe. But sweet.”
― Susan Fanetti, All the Sky