1
" There have to be rules though.” She pulled out of the kiss, withdrawing her finger as well, sliding it down his chin and throat, leaving a wet trail.
“Rules?”
Her gaze locked with his. “This can only be sex. Just seven weeks of utterly debauched, completely strings-free sex.” Her finger moved south, swirling around first one nipple then the other. “No expectations. No commitments. No getting attached. No crying like a baby and asking me not to leave.”
Ryder laughed at the thought, but there was a husky catch to it as her finger trailed down his abdomen.
“I’m not going to fall in love with you,” she continued. “And you’re not going to fall in love with me. I will not give up my dream again, Ryder. Not for you, not for any man. Okay? "
― Amy Andrews , Playing With Forever (Sydney Smoke Rugby, #4)
3
" The borderline Queen experiences what therapists call " oral greediness" . The desperate hunger of the borderline Queen is akin to the behavior of an infant who had gone too long between feelings. Starved, frustrated, and beyond the ability to calm of soothe herself, she grabs, flails, and wails until at last the nipple is planted securely and perhaps too deeply in her mouth. She coughs, gags, chokes, and spits, eyeing the elusive breast like a wolf guarding her food. Similarity, the Queen holds on to what is hers, taking more than she could use, in case it might be taken away prematurely. "
8
" She shivered under his touch, desire dampening her panties and making her clench her thighs together in an attempt to find some relief. His devilish hands relaxed their grip on her hips and slid around to cup her ass, pulling her close. Thick, hard evidence of his desire pressed against her belly. God, she wanted this man, and not just to silent the stressful thoughts always swirling in her head. She wanted him, not just the divine moment of oblivion that blocked out everything else.The realization scared her and brought some unwanted reality into the room. " We shouldn't be doing this." " Why?" He made quick work of the buttons on her petal-pink cashmere sweater and parted her cardigan. Sean gave a soft growl as he stared at her silver satin pushup bra that presented her boobs like an all-you-can-lick buffet. " Because I'm your employee?" He licked his lips and slid his thumb across the satin covering her hard nipple." Yes," she said, sighing. An answer to his question or a response to even the lightest of touches? Both." Easy fix." He snapped the front closure of her bra and her tits tumbled out. " I quit." Bending forward, he lifted one heavy globe and took the hard nub into his hot mouth. Fire sizzled through her veins and it felt so good she couldn't wait to burn." You can't quit." She reached down for the top button of his jeans and flicked it open. " We need you. I need you." He released her nipple and she groaned in frustration. Then he found the hem of her skirt and inched it higher and the soft groan that floated out of her mouth was for a whole other reason." Hire me back in about an hour or, better yet, a few days." The cool air caressed her upper thighs as he raised her skirt, but it wasn't enough to relieve the molten heat engulfing her. " I like how you think. "
9
" Inside, there was a bed, and upon the bed there was a woman. More beautiful was she even than the damask rose while her scent, drifting through the open window, was that of the night dew. Her hair was silken as the raven's wing. Quite naked, she lay, so still upon the bed, her eyes closed in reverie.
The young man looked first upon her breasts, where her hand rested. And upon each breast, there was a rosebud nipple. Upon each nipple there was a tip most tender. Upon each tip there was a milky drop.
Chin lifted, lips parted, she milked her maiden breast.
'What I would give to suckle at that teat,' thought he.
from 'Against Faithlessness' in Cautionary Tales "
― Emmanuelle de Maupassant , Cautionary Tales
12
" Despite your delusions to the contrary, swingers, by and large, are a civilized lot. We come in all ages, shapes, sizes, nationalities, and ethnicities. We have differing beliefs, varying opinions, IQs, and senses of humor. We have families, friends, careers, hobbies, mortgages, and retirement plans. In short, we’re just like everyone else. We don’t strap on leather chaps and nipple clamps to go about our day. Wearing kinks on our sleeves like badges of honor isn’t our style. Truth be told, we don’t talk that much about our dalliances—-at least not to Vanilla folk. We’re not ashamed. We simply assume most of the world doesn’t get our way of life. And more times than not, we’re right. "
― Daniel Stern , Swingland: Between the Sheets of the Secretive, Sometimes Messy, but Always Adventurous Swinging Lifestyle
15
" Okay," she said, breathless. " But just be quick about it. Please." He looked up from her breasts to her face. " Stamina is usually considered a good thing in a man." She tried to catch her breath. " It's... uncomfortable. I'm not good at this," she confessed. " I don't like to drag things out.: His eyebrows slid up a fraction, his voice deepening to a silky smoothness. " Is that so?" And then ever so slowly, ever so carefully, he licked a lazy circle around her nipple. A small moan escaped her throat, taking her by surprise and embarrassing her. His lips twitched. Then he licked the nipple itself. She moaned again, started by the pleasure. Then he took her nipple into his mouth, sucked hard suddenly, and she felt moisture gather between her legs. When he moved to the other nipple while rubbing the first between his thumb and index fingers, she reached down to run her hands over his back and wide shoulders, over his hot, smooth skin, wanting to touch him as much as wanting to hold him in place. He looked up. " For someone who's not good at this, you're amazingly responsive. "
17
" Griffin, please,” she whispered.
“Do you want me?” he asked.
“Yes!” She tossed her head restlessly. She’d explode if he didn’t give her release soon.
“Do you need me?” He kissed her nipple too gently.
“Please, please, please.”
“Do you love me?”
And somehow, despite her extremis, she saw the gaping hole of the trap. She peered up at him blindly in the dark. She couldn’t see his face, his expression.
“Griffin,” she sighed hopelessly.
“You can’t say it, can you?” he whispered. “Can’t admit it either. "
― Elizabeth Hoyt , Notorious Pleasures (Maiden Lane, #2)
18
" New Rule: America must stop bragging it's the greatest country on earth, and start acting like it. I know this is uncomfortable for the " faith over facts" crowd, but the greatness of a country can, to a large degree, be measured. Here are some numbers. Infant mortality rate: America ranks forty-eighth in the world. Overall health: seventy-second. Freedom of the press: forty-fourth. Literacy: fifty-fifth. Do you realize there are twelve-year old kids in this country who can't spell the name of the teacher they're having sex with?America has done many great things. Making the New World democratic. The Marshall Plan. Curing polio. Beating Hitler. The deep-fried Twinkie. But what have we done for us lately? We're not the freest country. That would be Holland, where you can smoke hash in church and Janet Jackson's nipple is on their flag.And sadly, we're no longer a country that can get things done. Not big things. Like building a tunnel under Boston, or running a war with competence. We had six years to fix the voting machines; couldn't get that done. The FBI is just now getting e-mail.Prop 87 out here in California is about lessening our dependence on oil by using alternative fuels, and Bill Clinton comes on at the end of the ad and says, " If Brazil can do it, America can, too!" Since when did America have to buck itself up by saying we could catch up to Brazil? We invented the airplane and the lightbulb, they invented the bikini wax, and now they're ahead?In most of the industrialized world, nearly everyone has health care and hardly anyone doubts evolution--and yes, having to live amid so many superstitious dimwits is also something that affects quality of life. It's why America isn't gonna be the country that gets the inevitable patents in stem cell cures, because Jesus thinks it's too close to cloning.Oh, and did I mention we owe China a trillion dollars? We owe everybody money. America is a debtor nation to Mexico. We're not a bridge to the twenty-first century, we're on a bus to Atlantic City with a roll of quarters. And this is why it bugs me that so many people talk like it's 1955 and we're still number one in everything.We're not, and I take no glee in saying that, because I love my country, and I wish we were, but when you're number fifty-five in this category, and ninety-two in that one, you look a little silly waving the big foam " number one" finger. As long as we believe being " the greatest country in the world" is a birthright, we'll keep coasting on the achievements of earlier generations, and we'll keep losing the moral high ground.Because we may not be the biggest, or the healthiest, or the best educated, but we always did have one thing no other place did: We knew soccer was bullshit. And also we had the Bill of Rights. A great nation doesn't torture people or make them disappear without a trial. Bush keeps saying the terrorist " hate us for our freedom," " and he's working damn hard to see that pretty soon that won't be a problem. "
