2
" What would you do without me?” he asked one night. We were tangled in the silky sheets of his gigantic bed. My heart was still pounding as I came down from the high of what we’d just done, and he wasn’t helping matters by putting his lips so close to my ear.
“Live a happy… happy life,” I murmured. “I might even… be an optimist… if you weren’t around.”
“Liar.” He bit my earlobe playfully. “You’d be absolutely miserable. Admit it, Duffy. I’m the wind beneath your wings.”
I bit my lip, but I still couldn’t hold back the laughter-and just as I was finally catching my breath, too. “You just referenced Bette Midler… in bed. I’m starting to question your sexuality, Wesley.”
Wesley looked at me with a defiant glint in his eye. “Oh, really?” He grinned before moving his mouth back to my ear and whispering, “We both know that my manhood has never been in question… I think you’re just changing the subject because you know it’s true. I’m the light of your life.”
“You…” I struggled for words as Wesley pressed his mouth into the crook of my neck. The tip of his tongue moved down to my shoulder and made my brain get all fuzzy. How was I supposed to argue under these conditions? “You wish. I’m just using you, remember?”
His laughter was muffled against my skin. “That’s amusing,” he said, his lips still grazing my collarbone. “Because I’m pretty sure your ex is out of town by now.” One of his hands slid between my knees. “Yet you’re still here, aren’t you?” His fingers began gliding up and down my inner thigh, making it difficult for me to think of a retort. He seemed to like this, because he laughed again. “I don’t think you hate me, Duffy. I think you like me a lot. "
― Kody Keplinger , The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend (Hamilton High, #1)
3
" She has shared her hurt with me, and now a little bit of it is mine. This thing she couldn't bear alone, I can bear some of it, I can be hurt, too, and here's the thing you'd never expect about this kind of second-hand-hurt - it feels so good, it makes you feel whole, it makes you feel necessary, and even if you don't realize it right away, you'll find, as time passes, as the bearing of the hurt further intoxicates you, makes you more fully hers and she more fully yours, that you'll do anything to keep it; you'll say anything, you'll believe anything, you'll compromise anything, you'll build your self-worth around that tiny grain of hurt she lent you, and in return you'll hold her chin in your hand and run your thumb over the corner of her mouth and tickle the back of her earlobe with your finger and whisper to her over and over and over that " it's okay, it's okay, it's okay - "
4
" But looking at you was nothing like looking at those pictures. When I first saw,” he said, looking down at her chest, then up again to meet her eyes, “it hurt, almost a physical pain. Since you finished chemo, you've gotten so strong again. Sometimes I almost forget what you've been through. But seeing your scars, they reminded me of your hurt. How you've been cut apart. What you gave up.”
It was important, not keeping herself back from him, putting parts of herself off limits. But it stung when he sank down to brush his lips over the two biggest scars.
“But your scars are beautiful. I mean, I look at them, and I want to kiss, I want to touch, I feel this tenderness for them. You know how when you love someone, when you've been with them a long time and you know all the little lines and curves and planes of their body, how you look at little parts of them—the corner of their mouth, the back of their hand, the little crease where their earlobe meets their jaw—and you can feel like you're in love with that little piece of them? Maybe soon, I'll look at your scars like that. But right now, it's this feeling I've never had for a part of someone's body, before, because they promise me you're well. That you get to live. That we get to have a long life together.”
Her love for him was swelling up in her chest, the way it did sometimes, an ache she wanted to hold on to. "
― Varian Krylov , Hurt
5
" Marry me, Rachel.'
'Not yet.'
'Tomorrow, Rachel. Marry me.'
'Maybe tomorrow.'
'There is no common blood between us. Say it,' pleads Zachariah.
'There is no common blood between us,' murmurs Rachel.
'I am not your brother.'
'I know.'
He traces her face with his swollen fingers, across the brow bones and down the zygomatics, and along the jaw from earlobe to chin, sweeping away the brine as he goes.
'I am your Wolff,' he says.
'And I am your Wolff,' she replies.
Let the day begin. "
― Emma Richler , Be My Wolff
7
" Shh, kitten,” he whispered in English once more, nuzzling her temple, mouth open and hot against her ear. “Trust me.” His palms curved beneath her breasts, lifting them as his blunt fingertips tweaked her nipples expertly enough to have slickness gathering between her clenched thighs. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever touched. Une ange, bébé.” He
groaned quietly as he caught her earlobe between his teeth. “Je t’adore,” he muttered, thrusting against her backside. "
― , The Corrupt Comte (The Bourbon Boys Quartet, #1)
12
" I took ten days off and by 11 o’clock on the first morning I had drunk fourteen cups of coffee, read all the newspapers and the Guardian and then… and then what?
By lunchtime I was so bored that I decided to hang a few pictures. So I found a hammer, and later a man came to replaster the bits of wall I had demolished. Then I tried to fix the electric gates, which work only when there’s an omega in the month. So I went down the drive with a spanner, and later another man came to put them back together again.
I was just about to start on the Aga, which had broken down on Christmas Eve, as they do, when my wife took me on one side by my earlobe and explained that builders do not, on the whole, spend their spare time writing, so writers should not build on their days off. It’s expensive and it can be dangerous, she said. "
― Jeremy Clarkson , The World According to Clarkson (World According to Clarkson, #1)