The eye can travel over the surface in a way parallel to the way it moves over nature. It should feel caressed and soothed, experience frictions and ruptures, glide and drift. One moment, there will be nothing to look at and the next second the canvas seems to refill, to be crowded with visual events.
But in that moment, I didn't want to be trusted. I wanted something far more primal. I stretched up on my tiptoes and leaned in. I closed my eyes as his scent overcame me. When his lips touched mine it felt as if he'd caressed them with a feather. It was all I could do not to wrap myself around him and do things I'd never really thought about doing before.
I just meant that a guy who's guarded his heart for so long might not be in the best position to judge." "Ouch." "Sorry." She reached across the cab of the truck and caressed his arm. "I promise to take the sting out of that owie remark as soon as I get you naked." A grin shot to his face. "Now you're talkin' my kind of language.
His anger took many shapes: sometimes soft and familiar, like a round stone he had caressed for so long that is was perfectly smooth and polished; sometimes it was thin and sharp like a blade that could slice through anything; sometimes it had the form of a star, radiating his hatred in all directions, leaving him numb and empty inside.
Then she took my hand and touched it to the wound beside her eye. I caressed the half-inch scar. As I did so, the waves of her consciousness pulsed through my fingertips and into me - a delicate resonance of longing. Probably someone should take this girl in his arms and hold her tight, I thought. Probably someone other than me. Someone qualified to give her something. "Goodbye, Mr. Wind-Up Bird. See you again sometime.
I was modest-they accused me of being crafty: I became secretive. I felt deeply good and evil-nobody caressed me, everybody offended me: I became rancorous. I was gloomy-other children were merry and talkative. I felt myself superior to them-but was considered inferior: I became envious. I was ready to love the whole world-none understood me: and I learned to hate.
I was modest--they accused me of being crafty: I became secretive. I felt deeply good and evil--nobody caressed me, everybody offended me: I became rancorous. I was gloomy--other children were merry and talkative. I felt myself superior to them--but was considered inferior: I became envious. I was ready to love the whole world--none understood me: and I learned to hate.
I don't think I'm making myself very clear Low," he'd lowered his voice and the effect made goose bumps break out over my body. "I was only interested in one person at that bar last night. I only came to see one person," he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and softly caressed my earlobe before tracing the line of my jaw. "I was there for you.
Hands still in the air, Jordan reached back and gently caressed her cheek. Dying for this woman would be no hardship. He'd die a thousand times over if it would take away her pain. Since he had every intention of living a long and healthy life with Eden at his side, he sincerely hoped Noah was on his way and dying wouldn't be necessary.
Dear Torina, I can't face the idea of sacrificing you to this danger. You must stay alive." He caressed her cheek. "Hear me," he went on. "Even if you feel only friendship, Torina, I've loved you since the day you helped me to my feet. I tried so hard to stop. Then I thought you were dead, and my life hurt every day.
''Do what thou wilt'' the blood was spilt an ego thus caressed
Accepting none but only one is where my freedom rests
Presenting now the sacred cow ''you cannot trust free will''
They stand in line of their birth signs their emptiness is shrill
Their clockwise universe is ticking out their lives
An orgy of pre-destiny held by threads of time
Accepting none but only one is where my freedom rests
Presenting now the sacred cow ''you cannot trust free will''
They stand in line of their birth signs their emptiness is shrill
Their clockwise universe is ticking out their lives
An orgy of pre-destiny held by threads of time
Maybe i would become a mermaid... i would live in the swirling blue-green currents, doing exotic underwater dances for the fish, kissed by sea anemones, caressed by seaweed shawls. I would have a doliphin friend. He would have merry eyes and thick flesh of a god. My fingernails would be tiny shells and my skin would be like jade with light shining through it I would never have to come back up
Francesca Lia Block
From barren brown stems to glistening leaf-buds; from the leaf-buds to snowy virginity of bloom... It was like a flute song forgotten in another existence and remembered again. What? How? Why? This singing she heard that had nothing to do with her ears. The rose of the world was breathing out smell. It followed her through all her waking moments and caressed her in her sleep.
Zora Neale Hurston
They began work at 5:30 and quit at 7 at night. Children six years old going home to lie on a straw pallet until time to resume work the next morning! I have seen the hair torn out of their heads by the machinery, their scalps torn off, and yet not a single tear was shed, while the poodle dogs were loved and caressed and carried to the seashore.
Mary Harris Jones
Little miss is taught by her mamma that she must never speak before she is spoken to. On this she sits bridling up her head, looking from one to the other, in hopes of being called to and addressed by the name of pretty miss.... But if this should not happen and no one should take any notice of her, she is ready to cry at the neglect. But should there be another miss in the room caressed and taken notice of whilst she is thus overlooked, it will be impossible for her to contain her tears, and blubbering is the word.
It is a human circumstance that when we are born we have not yet come into existence. We are lured into our special human existence by a mothering presence that gratifies our innate urges to be suckled, held, rocked, caressed. But that same gratifying presence puts limits on desire and rations satisfaction. In this sense the mother is also the first lawgiver.
Louise J. Kaplan
I was about to look away when he reached across the seat, touched my jaw with his long, strong, beautiful fingers, and caressed my face. Being touched by Jericho Barrons with kindness makes you feel like you must be the most special person in the world. It's like walking up to the biggest, most savage lion in the jungle, lying down, placing your head it its mouth and, rather than taking your life, it licks you and purrs.
Karen Marie Moning
Sometimes what you think is true, what you think is safe and good, is actually evil in disguise. Evil is so enticing, so deceiving, that you don't know its evil until it's wrapped you up and caressed you as a lover. You gaze into its eyes, enraptured by the pretty words whispers softly in your ears, realzing to late that the pretty words were all just twisted lies
And again there are no words. Words exist that can, used by a poet, achieve a dim monochrome of the body's love, but beyond that they fail clumsily. My love flowed out to her, hers back to me. Mine stroked and soothed. Hers caressed. The distance - and the difference - between us dwindled and vanished. We could meet, mingle, and blend. Neither one of us existed any more; for a time there was a single being that was both. There was escape from the solitary cell; a brief symbiosis, sharing all the word ...
Nothing and no one in the world could kill the love I have for you. I have surrendered my whole individuality, the very essence of my being to you. I have given you my body time after time to treat as you pleased. All the hoardings of my imagination I have laid bare to you. There isn't a recess in my brain into which you haven't penetrated. I have clung to you and caressed you and slept with you and I would like to tell the whole world that I clamour for you. You are my lover and I am your mistress, and kingdoms and empires and governments have tottered and succumbed before now to that mighty combination- the most powerful in the world.
Imagine you are walking down a leafy path... The sun is receding, and you are walking alone, caressed by the breezy light of the late afternoon. Then suddenly, you feel a large drop on your right arm. Is it raining? You look up. The sky is still deceptively sunny... seconds later another drop. Then, with the sun still perched in the sky, you are drenched in a shower of rain. This is how memories invade me, abruptly and unexpectedly...
Another writer asserts that the tyranny of man over woman has its roots, after all, in his nobler feelings; his love, his chivalry, and his desire to protect woman in the barbarous periods of pillage, lust, and war. But wherever the roots may be traced, the results at this hour are equally disastrous to woman. Her best interests and happiness do not seem to have been consulted in the arrangements made for her protection. She has been bought and sold, caressed and crucified at the will and pleasure of her master.
Susan B. Anthony
... the woman who grows up with the idea that she is simply to be an amiable animal, to be caressed and coaxed, is invariably a bitterly disappointed woman. A game of chess will cure such a conceit forever. The woman that knows the most, thinks the most, feels the most, is the most. Intellectual affection is the only lasting love. Love that has a game of chess in it can checkmate any man and solve the problem of life.
There were six dolls to be taken up and dressed every morning, for Beth was a child still, and loved her pets as well as ever. Not one whole or handsome one among them; all were outcasts till Beth took them in; for, when her sisters outgrew these idols, they passed to her... Beth cherished them all the more tenderly for that very reason, and set up a hospital for infirm dolls. No pins were ever stuck into their cotton vitals; no harsh words or blows were ever given them; no neglect ever saddened the heart of the most repulsive: but all were fed and clothed, nursed and caressed, with an affection which never failed.
Louisa May Alcott
Leif's frown eased and he slid his finger under my chin and gently caressed my jaw line with the pad of his thumb. "Pagan,will you do me the honor of being my date for Homecoming Dance?The prospect of not being able to hold you in my arms all night is heartbreaking." Mirand sighed from across the table. "Okay,that was beautiful.Why didn't you ask me like that?"she asked Wyatt. Wyatt shot Leif an annoyed frown. "Thanks,buddy.Next time you decide to break out your romantic side,could you do it alone?
A man could not be prevented from making himself a big wax doll, and kissing it. But if the man were to come with the doll and sit before a man in love, and begin caressing his doll as the lover caressed the woman he loved, it would be distasteful to the lover. Just such a distasteful sensation was what Mihailov felt at the sight of Vronsky's painting: he felt it both ludicrous and irritating, both pitiable and offensive.
She was exquisite. She tasted, smelled, and felt right in every way to him, but as they collapsed into bed, sated and finally ready to sleep, it was the shy girl who had entered his arms. It was she who caressed his cheek while kissing him deeply and softly, her delicate fingers exploring his arms and back, sending shivers through him that always hit his heart. The china doll. It was she who fell asleep upon his chest with her arms wrapped around him. There was a want inside her, and he had felt it in every way. The last thought of his night was simply that he wanted to be the one to know her. To free her.
We may remark in passing that to be blind and beloved may, in this world where nothing is perfect, be among the most strangely exquisite forms of happiness. The supreme happiness in life is the assurance of being loved; of being loved for oneself, even in spite of oneself; and this assurance the blind man possesses. In his affliction, to be served is to be caressed. Does he lack anything? no. Possessing love he is not deprived of light. A love, moreover, that is wholly pure. There can be no blindness where there is this certainty.
The deviation of man from the state in which he was originally placed by nature seems to have proved to him a prolific source of diseases. From the love of splendour, from the indulgences of luxury, and from his fondness for amusement he has familiarised himself with a great number of animals, which may not originally have been intended for his associates. The wolf, disarmed of ferocity, is now pillowed in the lady's lap. The cat, the little tiger of our island, whose natural home is the forest, is equally domesticated and caressed. The cow, the hog, the sheep, and the horse, are all, for a variety of purposes, brought under his care and dominion.
The green-eyed angel came in less than a half hour and fell docile as a lamb into my arms. We kissed and caressed, I met no resistance when I unlaced the strings to free her dress and fill myself in the moist and hot bed nature made between her thighs. We made love outdoors-without a roof, I like most, without stove, my favorite place, assuming the weather be fair and balmy, and the earth beneath be clean. Our souls intertwined and dripping with dew, and our love for each other was seen. Our love for the world was new.
"Only if one loves this earth with unbending passion can one relieve one's sadness," don Juan said. "Warriors are always joyful because their love is unalterable and their beloved, the earth, embraces them and bestows upon them inconceivable gifts. The sadness belongs only to those who hate the very thing that gives shelter to their beings." Don Juan again caressed the ground with tenderness. "This lovely being, which is alive to its last recesses and understands every feeling, soothed me, it cured me of my pains, and finally when I had fully understood my love for it, it taught me freedom."
Amid the cheering of the crowds, he hardly heard his master's voice, but he saw the familiar head and shoulders, and the bright flag he was waving. He raced toward the seven-foot fence; without apparent effort he rose in the air and cleared the top with a good hand-breadth to spare; then dashed up to his master that he loved, and gamboled there and licked his hand in heart-full joy. Again the victor's crown was his, and the master, a man of dogs, caressed the head of shining black with the jewel eyes of gold.
Ernest Thompson Seton
I love the night passionately. I love it as I love my country, or my mistress, with an instinctive, deep, and unshakeable love. I love it with all my senses: I love to see it, I love to breathe it in, I love to open my ears to its silence, I love my whole body to be caressed by its blackness. Skylarks sing in the sunshine, the blue sky, the warm air, in the fresh morning light. The owl flies by night, a dark shadow passing through the darkness; he hoots his sinister, quivering hoot, as though he delights in the intoxicating black immensity of space.
Guy de Maupassant
Answers I kept my answers small and kept them near; Big questions bruised my mind but still I let Small answers be a bullwark to my fear. The huge abstractions I kept from the light; Small things I handled and caressed and loved. I let the stars assume the whole of night. But the big answers clamoured to be moved Into my life. Their great audacity Shouted to be acknowledged and believed. Even when all small answers build up to Protection of my spirit, still I hear Big answers striving for their overthrow. And all the great conclusions coming near
She reached out, her fingers hesitant. The deer-Knox-tilted his head down, letting her touch his antlers. Her hand trembled slightly as she caressed the boney protrusion. The ivory tines were warmer than she thought they'd be, a living extension of the man inside. She petted his pelt next, charmed by the coarse fur and the feel of his muscles bunching and moving underneath. Sitting back, she winked up at him. "You probably get this a lot, but... nice rack.' The deer flashed back into a man who tackled her onto her pillows with a wolfy growl. 'Always gotta be the smartass, don't you?
At the railroad station he noted that he still had thirty minutes. He quickly recalled that in a cafe on the Calle Brazil (a few dozen feet from Yrigoyen's house) there was an enormous cat which allowed itself to be caressed as if it were a disdainful divinity. He entered the cafe. There was the cat, asleep. He ordered a cup of coffee, slowly stirred the sugar, sipped it (this pleasure had been denied him in the clinic), and thought, as he smoothed the cat's black coat, that this contact was an illusion and that the two beings, man and cat, were as good as separated by a glass, for man lives in time, in succession, while the magical animal lives in the present, in the eternity of the instant.
Jorge Luis Borges
It's easy to get carried away in the search for 'experience.' I think that people boast of 'experience' as if all experience is good. The whole world will tell you that all mistakes are good and all experiences are worthwhile. Nevertheless, I believe in an equilibrium. I always say 'throw yourself out there' but at the same time, I want to tell you, that there are so many experiences in life that you're better off not experiencing. Experience is not always a positive thing, it can affect a person in such a way that it is like finding a tulip trampled under foot, run over by bicycles and spit on. And then the tulip is set on a windowsill for sale with a sign that says 'I have had so much experience, that's why I'm more expensive.' But the truth is, there's nothing wrong with being that tulip in the field, untouched and caressed by moonlight. Yes, we have the choice to make mistakes, but we also have the choice to choose what things we allow in to make marks upon our lives. It is okay to be untouched by darkness.
C. JoyBell C.
the battered woman-for she wore a skirt-with her right hand exposed, her left clutching at her side, stood singing of love-love which has lasted a million years, she sang, love which prevails, and millions of years ago, her lover, who had been dead these centuries, had walked, she crooned, with her in May; but in the course of ages, long as summer days, and flaming, she remembered, with nothing but red asters, he had gone; death's enormous sickle had swept those tremendous hills, and when at last she laid her hoary and immensely aged head on the earth, now become a mere cinder of ice, she implored the Gods to lay by her side a bunch of purple heather, there on her high burial place which the last rays of the last sun caressed; for then the pageant of the universe would be over.
A kiss, he said, is a conversation. Easing closer, he continued to speak as he caressed her cheeks with featherlight stokes of his thumbs. "A first kiss", his lips neared hers, is an introduction and then his mouth brushed against hers. The contact sparked, sharp and bright like lightning, yet his lips were soft, unexpectedly so. Her breath caught the same instant his did. Against her mouth he whispered "That was Hello" His breath mingled with hers as he waited, his lips so close she could feel their warmth. For a moment she simply breathed him in growing heady on the scent of him and the tight anticipation gathering in her belly. Then she understood. Nerves fluttering, she brushed her lips across his as he had done. Again his breath hitched, as if he too felt that same spark, that hot need. Her eyes drifted closed and his voice poured over her like warm cream. "This is, 'I'm Jack'.
I doubt your Argonaut kin would approve of that, ' she managed. 'They didn't much like me being in your realm.' 'They'll just have to get used to it. Some things in life are more important than duty and honor.' Gods, how she wished that were true. 'Nothing in life is more important than duty and honor, Titus.' He cradled her face in his hands again. 'You are.' That was it. All she could take. A desperate need to be close to him one last time overwhelmed every thought and action. She pressed her mouth to his. Kissed him hard. Gasped when his arms closed around her waist with the strength of a vise. Lost herself in the sweet taste of his tongue stroking urgently across hers. 'I want you, ' she whispered against his lips. Desperation clawed at her soul. She pressed her lips to his again, opened, licked into his mouth. Warmth, wetness, hunger caressed her tongue in an erotic dance. She trailed one hand down his bare chest, over the waistband of his pants.
The sun rose and said to me, 'Be a ray of sunshine for someone today.' The wind nudged at my back and said to me, 'Blow a kiss to someone today.' The rain wet my cheek and said to me, 'Dry a tear on a somber face today.' The soil fed grass at my feet and said to me, 'Add pleasure to a life today.' The ocean washed ashore and said to me, 'Calm the tempest of a troubled soul today.' The mountain trembled and said to me, 'Soften a heart of stone today.' The moon lit the night and said to me, 'Show the way with your simple giving.' So I went and did as they bid me do. And the sun shone brightly on me. And the wind caressed my face. And the rain washed away my stains. And the soil made a rose garden along my path. And the ocean carried me from shore to shore. And the mountain sheltered me from storms. And the moon smiled down on me. I've come to realize I can never give enough to recompense what I get in return.
Richelle E. Goodrich
Pak Suleh recalled the atmosphere on his island of Pulau Sebidang, which had been ruled by his ancestors for more than a hundred years. Now it had been passed to foreign hands-whichever nation from whatever foreign world which had been claiming the island was theirs-such that he and his ancestors who had lived on that island for generation after generation had been chased away to live in these birdhouses. They had now inherited these congested breathing diseases. Why was it that he could no longer enjoy the wind which blows from the sea, which is very much one of God's incomparable benevolences? He could no longer savour the swaying coconut trees, ketapang trees, beringin trees and other trees which whistled and murmured when caressed by the winds as their dried leaves fell onto the sand, mixed with red and white flowers scattered all over the pristine white beach, resembling the moving clouds on a wide piece of white paper. I have lost everything, thought Pak Suleh deep in his heart.
Songs of the Soul On a dark night, Inflamed by love-longing - O exquisite risk! - Undetected I slipped away. My house, at last, grown still. Secure in the darkness, I climbed the secret ladder in disguise - O exquisite risk! - Concealed by the darkness. My house, at last, grown still. That sweet night: a secret. Nobody saw me; I did not see a thing. No other light, no other guide Than the one burning in my heart. This light led the way More clearly than the risen sun To where he was waiting for me - The one I knew so intimately - In a place where no one could find us. O night, that guided me! O night, sweeter than sunrise! O night, that joined lover with Beloved! Lover transformed in Beloved! Upon my blossoming breast, Which I cultivated just for him, He drifted into sleep, And while I caressed him, A cedar breeze touched the air. Wind blew down from the tower, Parting the locks of his hair. With his gentle hand He wounded my neck And all my senses were suspended. I lost myself. Forgot myself. I lay my face against the Beloved's face. Everything fell away and I left myself behind, Abandoning my cares Among the lilies, forgotten.
Saint John of the Cross
A quiet peacefulness stole through him, dimming the sharp sense of loss. His arms contracted around her, the pressure fierce. 'I'm coming to find you once the trial's over, ' he murmured against the top of her head. She kissed his chest. 'You'd better.' 'We're not done, ' he told her. 'Not by a long shot.' She hummed in agreement and caressed his chest with her fingertips. Nate stroked the length of her spine, savoring the silky texture of her skin. He missed her already and she was still lying naked in his arms. 'Just a few more days and this'll all be over.' 'Don't make me wait too long, okay?' 'I won't.' He leaned his head back, tipped her chin up with one hand until she met his eyes. If there was even a tiny part of her that doubted his intentions, he wanted that cleared up now. 'I've never felt like this about anyone before.' Her eyes softened and she smiled that serene smile that soothed him deep inside. 'Me neither.' He could drown in this woman and die a happy man. He admired her so damn much. 'You're strong, baby. So much stronger than you even realize. You've got this.' 'Have I got you, though?' Normally the question would have freaked him out. Hearing it from her made him feel insanely possessive. 'Yeah, you've got me, baby.' He was falling so hard and so fast, and it didn't even faze him. 'Then I can handle everything else on my own, ' she whispered, and pulled his mouth down to hers.
DAMN, SHINING THAT HALOGEN LIGHT SHOW, ICE SKIN, TIGHT CLOTHES, PLAY THAT MICE ROW AS I BEGIN THAT DICE THROW WHAT NICE HOES ARE BEEN FOR A PRICE FOLD GALAXIES EXPLODE I DARE YOU TO RISE ALLUDE YOUR THIGH AND CONFIDENTLY CALL YOU "POOTER PIE" I EASILY OUTMOVE YOUR SKY READ YOU YOUR MIRANDA RIGHTS, YOUR MINE NOW, GIRL FUCK YOUR FRIENDS AND YOU AIN'T CAMERA SHY, YOU'RE MIRANDA JULY MAKE LOVE TO THE LENS CALL YOU MY COLOURED GIRL, EVEN THOUGH YOU'RE GERMAN, IRISH GAZING AT YOUR PERFECT IRIS, ICE PEARL WITH HUGE EYES WENT DO HEAR THAT STARE? THAT'S THE EXACT SOUND OF A HEART BREAKING I'M HEART QUAKING, MY LOVE MAKING, IF YOU START RATING, BUT I'M A LARGE BABY YOU THINK I'M A PRINCETON MAN, YOUR VISION'S BEEN INSTAGRAMED I'VE CARESSED YOU LIKE IT'S LIFT A GRAM, SO IT'S A LIE LIKE I'M ON THIS WITNESS STAND I'VE NEVER WALKED AROUND MY CITY WITH PINCHED NARDS,MY HEART'S BEEN ENLARGED IF YOU SCOUR MY SIM CARD FOR A TRACE OF A FREAK, A CASE OF THE DEEP, I'M BROUGHT HER HOME WITH SHIN GUARDS BLAMING ALL OF MY HOES WHEN THEY KNOW THAT I WAS IN CHARGE
Dark Time Sunshine
Neely McIntire, " I said, clamping a sweaty hand behind her neck. "Friendship be damned!" Hayden yanked me forward. I had time to make a very girly sound before his lips began to move furiously over mine. His touch left behind the tingle of cinnamon gum. One of his hands slowly slid down and pressed into the small of my back. For a second, I thought the sun had washed over me. But this heat cuddled around me, pushing its way through my clothes. "Stmmmmp, " I tried to say around his lips. My knees wobbled as he wound his fingers into the curls at my neck, holding my face firmly against his. "No." The hot pressure of his hand increased. A rumbling protest came from his throat when I dug my nails into his collarbones. "Lemme go, " I managed to gasp when he kissed the corner of my mouth. "No, " he whispered. His voice became a yielding puff of smoke. It slipped into my ears and coaxed something familiar from the broken depths. The urge to fight drained away. This wisp of memory warmed me, relaxed tensed muscles, but tightened other places. My fists uncurled and gripped his shoulders. "Why are you doing this?" "I want you to come back to me, Neely, " he said, wrapping his arms around my waist to press our hips together. Fiery lips caressed my face and neck. "I know you're in there somewhere. Come back, come back, come back, " he whispered between kisses.
When I wasn't in the barn garden, helping out, sorting seeds or checking hoses I'd spend time alone, usually in the bathroom adjacent to Joel's room, staring into the shattered mirror as my hand gently caressed my baby bump. More often than not I would cry. Not because my pregnancy upset me, or that my hormones were getting the better of me, but because I missed Joel, my baby's father. That the baby would grow up without a dad made me anxious. Then again, if he had survived, what irreparable damage would he have suffered and how would his pain translate to his child? Jesus, I was studying myself in the very mirror he'd smashed the night he chose to take his own life. The bump had grown slowly in the last couple of months. With these limited resources, I didn't have the privilege of eating whatever I craved. Had that been the case, I was sure I would have been bigger by now. Still, I tried to eat as well and as often as I could and the size of my belly had proven that my attempts at proper nutrition were at least growing something in there. Nothing made me happier than feeling my baby move. It was a constant source of relief for me. In our present circumstances, with no vitamins and barely any meat products save the recent stash of jerky Earl had found in an abandoned trailer, my diet consisted of berries, lettuce, and canned beans for the most part. Feeling the baby move inside me was an experience I often enjoyed alone. I would think of Joel then as well. Imagining his hand on my belly, with mine guiding his to the kicks and punches.
Her room was warm and lightsome. A huge doll sat with her legs apart in the copious easy-chair beside the bed. He tried to bid his tongue speak that he might seem at ease, watching her as she undid her gown, noting the proud conscious movements of her perfumed head. As he stood silent in the middle of the room she came over to him and embraced him gaily and gravely. Her round arms held him firmly to her and he, seeing her face lifted to him in serious calm and feeling the warm calm rise and fall of her breast, all but burst into hysterical weeping. Tears of joy and relief shone in his delighted eyes and his lips parted though they would not speak. She passed her tinkling hand through his hair, calling him a little rascal. -Give me a kiss, she said. His lips would not bend to kiss her. He wanted to be held firmly in her arms, to be caressed slowly, slowly, slowly. In her arms he felt that he had suddenly become strong and fearless and sure of himself. But his lips would not bend to kiss her. With a sudden movement she bowed his head and joined her lips to his and he read the meaning of her movements in her frank uplifted eyes. It was too much for him. He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to her, body and mind, conscious of nothing in the world but the dark pressure of her softly parting lips. They pressed upon his brain as upon his lips as though they were the vehicle of a vague speech; and between them he felt an unknown and timid pressure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odour.
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.
Her feet moved into the vast space, but all she could see was Cyrus. He strode through the room the way a captain commands his ship. Was it possible his maroon bruise made him more dashing? He was a fine sight in a black broadcloth coat. Her salacious gaze dropped to a brass button lower on his waistcoat. The metal glimmered, winking at her with flirtatious intent very near the tuft of hair she remembered so well at his navel. The corner of Cyrus's mouth crooked. If she looked ready to devour him, he read the message on her face, no words required. 'Claire.' He said her name like a treasured sound. Then, her landlord bent low over her hand, kissing her knuckles and keeping her fingers in a tender hold. Her flesh sung a merry tune recalling how she'd gripped those broad shoulders of his in a fit of passion. Was that only two nights ago? Her cheeks turned hot at the memory. Cyrus rose to his full height, holding her hand. He planted a kiss on her forehead. 'Mmmm... ' he hummed approvingly. 'You smell of almonds.' His lips lingered on her hairline, giving her another soft kiss. 'And vanilla, I think. Something you cooked?' He breathed in her scent, standing close yet not intimidating in the least. His own smell was clean and starched with a hint of coffee. She reached high, touching his face like a woman with every right to partake of the feast he offered. 'It's face powder.' One finger stroked the smooth square of his jaw, her voice curving with amusement. 'Today I join the ranks of ladies who meet for luncheon, and I can't be sure if I've been lured here or goaded by one very challenging man put on earth to harass my senses.' She caressed his jaw, the grain of his skin smooth to the touch. He must've shaved in the last hour. His mouth quirked sideways, pressing the maroon bruise higher up his cheek. 'Something tells me you're the perfect woman to soothe such a man or put him in his place.' His pewter stare flicked over her exposed skin, settling on her cleavage. 'As to your senses, I shall treat them with the utmost care.
The car drove slowly down the road, following the slow speed limit to a tee. The engine hummed almost inaudibly to the couple so used to the sound; it was practically a lullaby. The man and woman in the two front seats both struggled to keep their drooping eyes open. The man concentrated hard, with the cool air from the vents blowing on his face. Being behind the wheel of a car was always a challenge after driving for hours. The twig of a girl curled up next to him rested her black and teal hair against the window, peering out into the jet-black night. She watched the city lights pass by, so much brighter than usual against the dark sky. She read the sign that passed by ever so slowly, and smiled slightly. 'Welcome to the town of Crimson, ' she mumbled in a scratchy voice. She wasn't so excited, but at least that meant she could stretch her cramped legs soon. 'I know you don't like the idea of moving, but you'll get used to it. I promise, in a couple of weeks you'll like it here, ' the man's deep voice said, crackling with fatigue. 'I hope so, ' she mumbled. 'Hey, I promise, ' he assured her. 'Alright, ' she said, passively. She glanced over at him and gave him a small smile, taking in his details. His hair was naturally black, and the tips were red, thanks to her suggestion, and it reached down to his jaw. His sleepy eyes were green, contrasting with his pale skin. His nose was thin and rounded, but not too thin, and his chin came to a smooth point. His lips were plump and decorated with snakebite piercings. She eyed the rest of him, then, from his beautiful face, down his thin frame, over the black clothes he wore, to his thin wrists; the left covered in a tribal tattoo. He smiled back, and caressed her smooth, pale cheek lightly with his thumb. She smiled again, and looked out the window once more. She watched the town pass by agonizingly slow. At least she could take in the details. The town looked like it had come straight from the Renaissance, but modernized. Instead of candles, they of course had light bulbs. She found it kind of eerie, yet nice. The town was so active, and alive. Everyone was out, and going about their business. They seemed friendly, too. Some of them waved as the car passed by. She smiled, amused, and looked at the clock. 'Wow, this town is so active, for being 3 in the morning! You would think they'd all be sleeping, ' she said. 'We're not, ' he told her. 'They didn't travel hours to get here, ' she replied. 'Yeah, yeah, ' he said in defeat. 'We're almost there, ' he added, with an ear-to-ear grin. She knew he was excited, and suddenly she was too. She hadn't been, but she suddenly felt like she was on an adventure, and was totally psyched. She sat up with a grin almost as big as her husband's, and peered out the window into the night. He let out a soft laugh. 'You're cute, ' he told her, eyeing her up and down. She was more pale than he was, but it suited her well. Her entire frame was thin, and her face was oval. Her eyes were blue and held the look of excitement. Her eyebrows were naturally thin and the right one was pierced. Her nose was small and pointed, and she had a shiny ring through her septum. He found her the most beautiful creature in the world.