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61 " Do you mean to tell me’, he growled a the Dursleys, ‘that this boy- this boy! - knows nothin’ abou’ - about ANYTHING?’Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks were’nt bad.’I know some things,’ he said. ’ I can, you know, do maths and stuff.’But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, ‘About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer’ parents world.’ ‘What world?’Hagrid looked at though he was about to explode.‘DURSLEY!’ he boomed.Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like ’Mimblewimble’. Hagrid stared wildly at Harry.‘But yeh must know about yer mum and dad’, he said. ’I mean, they’re famous. You’re famous. ‘What? My - my mum and dad weren’t famous, were they?’‘Yeh don’ know... yeh don’ know...’ Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare.‘Yeh don’ know what yeh are?’ he said finally.Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.‘Stop!’ he commanded, ’stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!’A braver man than Vernon dudley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.‘You never told him? Never told him what was in the latter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An’ you kept it from him all these years?’‘Kept what from me?’ said Harry eagerly.‘STOP! I FORBID YOU!’ yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.’Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh,’ said Hagrid. ‘Harry - yer a wizard. "
― J.K. Rowling , Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (Harry Potter, #1)
62 " Not forever,” he said onto my mouth.And though I knew it was a lie, I put my arms around his neck and kissed him.He pulled me onto his lap, holding me tightly against him as his lips parted mine. I became aware of every pore in my body when his tongue entered my mouth.Though the horror of Rhysand’s magic still tore at me, I pushed Tamlin onto the bed, straddling him, pinning him as if it would somehow keep me from leaving, as if it would make time stop entirely.His hands rested on my hips, and their heat singed me through the thin silk of my nightgown. My hair fell around our faces like a curtain. I couldn’t kiss him fast enough, hard enough to express the rushing need within me. He growled softly and deftly flipped us over, spreading me beneath him as he wrenched his lips from my mouth and made a trail of kisses down my neck.My entire world constricted to the touch of his lips on my skin. Everything beyond them, beyond him, was a void of darkness and moonlight. My back arched as he reached the spot he’d once bitten, and I dragged my hands through his hair, savoring the silken smoothness.He traced the arc of my hipbones, lingering at the edge of my undergarments. My nightgown had become hitched around my waist, but I didn’t care. I hooked my bare legs around his, running my feet down the hard muscles of his calves.He breathed my name onto my chest, one of his hands exploring the plane of my torso, rising up to the slope of my breast. I trembled, anticipating the feel of his hand there, and his mouth found mine again as his fingers stopped just below.His kissing was slower this time—gentler. The fingertips of his other hand slipped beneath the waist of my undergarment, and I sucked in a breath.He hesitated at the sound, pulling back slightly. But I bit his lip in a silent command that had him growling into my mouth. With one long claw, he shredded through silk and lace, and my undergarment fell away in pieces. The claw retracted, and his kiss deepened as his fingers slid between my legs, coaxing and teasing. I ground against his hand, yielding completely to the writhing wildness that had roared alive inside me, and breathed his name onto his skin.He paused again—his fingers retracting—but I grabbed him, pulling him farther on top of me. I wanted him now—I wanted the barriers of our clothing to vanish, I wanted to taste his sweat, wanted to become full of him. "
― Sarah J. Maas , A Court of Thorns and Roses (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #1)
63 " I saw only a flash of green and gold before the warmth of Tamlin’s body slammed into me and our lips met.I couldn’t kiss him deeply enough, couldn’t hold him tightly enough, couldn’t touch enough of him. Words weren’t necessary.I tore at his shirt, needing to feel the skin beneath one last time, and I had to stifle the moan that rose up in me as he grasped my breast. I didn’t want him to be gentle—because what I felt for him wasn’t at all like that. What I felt was wild and hard and burning, and so he was with me.He tore his lips from mine and bit my neck—bit it as he had on Fire Night. I had to grind my teeth to keep myself from moaning and giving us away. This might be the last time I touched him, the last time we could be together. I wouldn’t waste it.My fingers grappled with his belt buckle, and his mouth found mine again. Our tongues danced—not a waltz or a minuet, but a war dance, a death dance of bone drums and screaming fiddles.I wanted him—here.I hooked a leg around his middle, needing to be closer, and he ground his hips harder against me, crushing me into the icy wall. I pried the belt buckle loose, whipping the leather free, and Tamlin growled his desire in my ear—a low, probing sort of sound that made me see red and white and lightning. "
64 " Ah, there you are, Bard,” came a familiar voice, and she turned to see Alucard striding over.“Saints, is that a dress you’re in? The crew will never believe it.”“You’ve got to be kidding me,” growled Kell. "
― V.E. Schwab , A Gathering of Shadows (Shades of Magic, #2)
65 " His master plan to get them all out the door early met its first check of the day when he opened his closet door to discover that Zap the Cat, having penetrated the security of Vorkosigan House through Miles's quisling cook, had made a nest on the floor among his boots and fallen clothing to have kittens. Six of them.Zap ignored his threats about the dire consequences of attacking an Imperial Auditor, and purred and growled from the dimness in her usual schizophrenic fashion. Miles gathered his nerve and rescued his best boots and House uniform, at a cost of some high Vor blood, and sent them downstairs for a hasty cleaning by the overworked Armsman Pym. The Countess, delighted as ever to find her biological empire increasing, came in thoughtfully bearing a cat-gourmet tray prepared by Ma Kosti that Miles would have had no hesitation in eating for his own breakfast. In the general chaos of the morning, however, he had to go down to the kitchen and scrounge his meal. The Countess sat on the floor and cooed into his closet for a good half-hour, and not only escaped laceration, but managed to pick up, sex, and name the whole batch of little squirming furballs before tearing herself away to hurry and dress. "
― Lois McMaster Bujold , Memory (Vorkosigan Saga, #10)
66 " He growled at morning noon and night And trouble sought to borrow Although today the sky was bright He knew t'would storm tomorrow A thought of joy he could not stand And struggled to resist it Though sunshine dappled all the land This sorry pessimist it. "
