43
" For our own part, we learned a great deal about the techniques of love, and because we didn't know the words to denote what we saw, we had to make up our own. That was why we spoke of " yodeling in the canyon" and " tying the tube," of " groaning in the pit," " slipping the turtle's head," and " chewing the stinkweed." Years later, when we lost our own virginities, we resorted in our panic to pantomiming Lux's gyrations on the roof so long ago; and even now, if we were to be honest with ourselves, we would have to admit that it is always that pale wraith we make love to, always her feet snagged in the gutter, always her single blooming hand steadying itself against the chimney, no matter what our present lovers' feet and hands are doing. "
44
" To think I actually talked to the boy who nearly got you killed," Ivy mutters, shuddering with disgust. " I'm so sorry I did." " It's okay. You didn't know," I reassure her as we take a seat on some pool chairs." But you told me before what his appearance was. I should have recognized him!" " It's fine, Ivy. Even if you did your best to avoid him, he would've found way to hit on you eventually." Ivy wrinkles her nose at the unfamiliar language. " 'Hit on'? What does that mean?" " Flirting. Or, for Dunstan, more like a procedure. He's been hitting on any pretty girl he sees ever since he and Melanie broke up. I don't know if he's doing this to make her jealous or what, but it's really annoying." I look back up to see Ivy go rigid. For some reason she looks classically surprised; her hand is over her mouth, and the rosy blush is back with a vengeance," Ivy? You okay?" Ivy removes her hand, muttering something so quietly I can't hear it." Sorry?" " You called me pretty." The moment those words are said, Ivy stares down at her feet as her face gets brighter." Well, yeah," I murmur, my face hot. " You really are beautiful tonight, Ivy. "
46
" Say that you don’t love him!” Amarantha shrieked, and the blood on my hands became the blood of that rabbit—became the blood of what I had lost.
But I wouldn’t say it. Because loving Tamlin was the only thing I had left, the only thing I couldn’t sacrifice.
A path cleared through my red-and-black vision. I found Tamlin’s eyes—wide as he crawled toward Amarantha, watching me die, and unable to save me while his wound slowly healed, while she still gripped his power.
Amarantha had never intended for me to live, never intended to let him go.
“Amarantha, stop this,” Tamlin begged at her feet as he clutched the gaping wound in his chest. “Stop. I’m sorry—I’m sorry for what I said about Clythia all those years ago. Please. "
― Sarah J. Maas , A Court of Thorns and Roses (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #1)
58
" I was in a copse of pine trees, and the pine was overpowering my scent. The pheromones of the big cat mingled with the pine and I spun around. I was smelling and looking for the flash of white, but I couldn’t see it. I grew angry and I pawed at the earth. The aroma of the soil cleansed my nose as I leaned down and sniffed deeply. I slowly closed and opened my eyes. As I looked ahead I saw something.
There, further on, I had another glimpse of the large white cat. She was stopped and her hindquarters were in the air. I stared, trying to figure out what she was doing. Her forepaws and head were on the ground, but her hind was wiggling. She was next to a tree, marking it, so I slowly paced in a zigzag pattern as I walked close to her. I was being cautious because poachers had been known to employ shifters to entice real animals in the wild. She turned her head and growled at me. I took it as an invite to come closer.
I ran up to her and started circling. She was an albino panther as I thought. I paced closer, breathing deep. I was in the middle of Ohio, outside of a lost cougar and a few bobcats there were no big cats here, at least not counting lycanthropes, and this creature didn’t smell like one of those. Her rump almost wagged in anticipation, and I felt my tiger body respond.
I circled her, taking a swipe in her direction to see if she was going to respond negatively to me. The pink eyes followed me and she growled. I walked up to her, sniffed her face and neckline. I didn’t smell any other male on her, and I walked to her raised rump. Burying my nose in her groin I smelled deeper, and she shifted her body.
I felt it before I could see it. She was shifting, changing from albino panther to human. I sat on my hindquarters as I watched.
Her white fur seemed to melt from her, sliding upwards, starting with her back legs. The flesh and fur on her feet slid forward, leaving human feet and calves. It was fully fleshed, unlike some lycanthrope changes when they’re younger. The calves of her legs appeared, and slowly slid up. The panther flesh was sliding forward, slowly and methodically. Across her ass and groin, now lower back and stomach. The pheromones I smelled earlier were coming from her, the human form. I stood and started pacing behind her, and her panther head shook in a very human gesture. I stopped, fighting the desire to lean forward and lick her wetness with my large tongue. The flesh was sliding forward and as her teats turned into breasts, I growled in need. Next were her shoulders and arms, then her head and hands. As the transformation ended, there was a pile of fur and flesh lying in front of her.
Her human form was beautiful; a full figured woman with long white hair, that was perfectly natural. She looked to be in her early forties, but didn’t have a line on her face that she didn’t want. In the corners of her eyes were small, but beautiful, crow’s feet, laugh lines surrounded her mouth. She laid out with her former form under her, laying on it, propped up by her elbows. She smiled with the confidence of someone who was used to being in charge. Her long hair flowed around her shoulders, framing her body. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t figure out who. "
― Todd Misura , Divergence: Erotica from a Different Angle
59
" She brought her elbow
backward and connected with Rand’s ribs. He swore and released her.
She whirled on him. “That’s for being so arrogant!”
Rand advanced on her, and the grin on his face wasn’t at all reassuring. She took one step
back, then turned to sprint into the bathroom, when a pair of hands caught her and slung her over
a hard muscled shoulder.
“Put me down right now!” She screamed as she pummeled his back. “You are the most
annoying, selfish, barbaric, horny man I know, Rand Miller!”
He set her back on her feet inside the bathroom, then cupped her chin in his palm. “You
are the most gorgeous, intelligent, feisty woman I know, Lucy Flemming.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes. What was he up to now? “Flattery won’t help you out of this
one.”
“It’s not flattery. It’s the truth,” he murmured as he leaned close to her ear. “And, baby?”
“Yes?” she answered, her voice nearly inaudible as his nearness began to override her
anger.
“I’d better be the only horny man you know. "
― Anne Rainey , Reckless Exposure (Three Kinds of Wicked, #3)
60
" Bree shot to her feet and glared at him.
“Look all you want, Brianna. That was the deal, remember? Until Arturo is found, I’m not leaving you alone.”
Alessandro stared down at her with immovable stubbornness.
“How am I gonna explain you to my grandfather? And what if the rest of my family is there?”
“Hello O’Reiley family, you remember Alessandro, the father of my child, the man that I love, the light of my life, ma raison d'être…”
“Are you done?” Bree asked cocking an eyebrow.
“Depends, are you quite ready to go? Look, you can explain that I’m there for answers too. My father’s involvement in this vendetta directly influences my own future and that of my child. "
― E. Jamie , The Vendetta (Blood Vows, #1)