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1 " I was moving in a narrow range between busy distractedness and a pervasive sadness whose granules seemed to enter each cell, weighing it down... I ghosted between islands of anxiety... a fatigue that dulled my zest, decanted it. Sorrow felt like a marble coat I couldn’t shed. "
― Diane Ackerman , One Hundred Names for Love: A Memoir
2 " The surface of the pond was green with fallen leaves. " How could you have been happy there? I know what you thought, but Valentine was a terrible father. He killed your pets, lied to you, and I know he hit you- don't even try to pretend he didn't." A flicker of a smile ghosted across Jace's face. " Only on alternate Thursdays. "
3 " I know.” The two words ghosted against the skin of her neck, sending goose bumps down her spine. “But I want to touch you. I want to put my hands all over you. I want to kiss every inch of you and taste you as you come apart in my arms. I want to feel you wrapped around me with nothing but my name on your lips and the sheets a tangled mess beneath us. I want…” He exhaled heavily into her ear. “I want. I want. I want! "
― Airicka Phoenix , Octavian's Undoing (Sons of Judgment, #1)
4 " Do it, Octavian” She ghosted the tips of her fingers along the hem of his shirt. “Touch me.”He growled low in his throat, his forehead dropping another inch toward her shoulder, his hair tickling the side of her face. “Be my angel, Riley, not my siren. Don’t tempt me.”Moistening her lips with a sweep of her tongue, Riley glided her fingers over his belt, tracing the strip of leather to the silver buckle in the center. She felt rather than heard his deep inhalation and the tremor that raked his powerful body. Driven by his surrender, she used two fingers to walk over the square carvings etched into his abdomen, biting her lip to stop the grin that pulled when he groaned. “I want to be both for you, Octavian,” she whispered, letting her lips brush the curve of his shoulder. "
5 " Early morning mist ghosted along the Orm, trailing above the water, rising and twisting. Wide and sleek and almost silent, the river curled through the valley, curved almost to the doors of the stone-terraced cottages sunk tight in the moorland. As soon as he was beyond sight of the mill gates, Manny ran, his step lighter, his boots crunching against the highway. The village was quiet now, and he could hear the faint cries of sheep on the hillside. He felt suddenly exultant at having acted decisively, felt the thrill of running away. Then he reasoned with himself that he wasn’t so much running away as running to something else—something better—running away to take charge of his future. He was improving his station in life, looking for work of his choosing. "
6 " A chef’s magic is his ingredients, how he can substitute one for another, then break with convention by changing it all around again without once referring to the recipe. And then just at the death complete the beauty by adding another element never previously thought of. Well words are the writer’s sorcery, our dark arts and our sleight of hand. They’re our enchantment and our temptation. Sometimes both the chef and the writer overindulges himself and it gets out of hand, but that’s how we like it, it’s how we’ve ghosted some of our best creations. "
― Karl Wiggins , Self-Publishing In the Eye of the Storm
7 " And so she ghosted on, in relentless pursuit of escape, not from society, but from herself. "
― Robyn Schneider , The Beginning of Everything
8 " Baby,” Day said softly, his throat still sore from being choked.God turned around slowly and faced him. Day choked up at the pained expression on his man’s face. He could see that God’s eyes were moist and red-rimmed. Day inched toward him and didn’t stop until he was pressed against that broad chest. God’s strong arms came around him and squeezed him hard. The guttural moan the man released against his temple made Day’s heart seize.God pulled back and gripped a handful of Day’s hair pulling so that he was looking up at him. God bent down and oh so gently grazed his soft lips across his. Day’s body vibrated from the sensual feeling. God rubbed his face all over Day’s as if he was marking him with his scent. God’s grip tightened in his hair and he moaned again. Day could feel God’s body trembling and Day didn’t know at that moment if the shaking was from residual fear or need, so he didn’t move as he let his lover do what he needed to do.God released the punishing grip and his large palms shook as they ghosted over Day’s face. His chin was tilted up by firm fingers and again was blessed with feathery-soft kisses. God leaned back in and draped his arms completely around him and Day embraced him back. The soft piano from the album serenaded them and God just barely rocked their bodies back and forth in a very slow dance. Every few seconds he’d stop to place kisses on his forehead before leaning back in. "
― A.E. Via
9 " Day slammed the door behind Johnson, leaving just him and his partner in the room alone. Day hit the lights.“Setting the mood, Leo?” God grinned at him.“I want to talk to you now.”“You can’t always get what you want, Leonidis,” God rebutted.“I want you,” Day said with no hesitation.The room was deathly silent. After a few long seconds God responded simply, “No you don’t.”“I do. Isn’t it obvious?” Day moved a little closer.“You don’t know what the fuck you want. I’ve watched you for four years, jumping from bed to bed and fucking your way through half of Atlanta. I have one emotional night and all of a sudden you want me…fuck you,” God said in his gruffest voice.Day’s body heated instantly at the sound. He moved even closer to where God was standing on the opposite side of the table.“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was supposed to be saving myself for marriage, and even more so, I didn’t realize you were a goddamn virgin. How many women have I seen you fuck in that pussy-getting truck of yours, huh?” Day lowered his voice as he stood directly in front of God. “Just tell me you didn’t feel what I did last night.” He closed the small gap, not minding God’s height at all, and looked up into electric-green eyes. “Tell me you don’t want me too, and I’ll back the fuck off.”God looked down at him and Day could see the uncertainty all over that ruggedly handsome face.“Shit’s complicated, Leo.” God’s breath ghosted across his forehead.“Make me understand, Cashel,” Day whispered and slowly brought his hands up to rest on God’s waist. "
10 " To Cassidy, the panopticon wasn't a metaphor. It was the greatest failing on everything she was, a prison she had built for herself out of an inability to appear anything less than perfect. And so she ghosted on, in relentless pursuit of escape, not from society, but from herself. She would always be confined by what everyone expected of her because she was too afraid and too unwilling to correct our imperfect imaginings. "