Body Shot Quotes & Sayings

He shot across the dark and dank room and gently lowered her slight body, which seemed to weigh almost nothing, until she stood with her back to the wall, as he called a shield of water to block her from any danger. — Alyssa Day

I should have known," he whispered. "I am the rain." And yet he looked dully down the mountains of his body where the hills fell to an abyss. He felt the driving rain, and heard it whipping down, pattering on the ground. He saw his hills grow dark with moisture. Then a lancing pain shot through the heart of the world. "I am the land," he said, "and I am the rain. The grass will grow out of me in a little while."
And the storm thickened, and covered the world with darkness, and with the rush of waters. — John Steinbeck

The following year, on June 20, 1947, not suspecting what was about to happen, Bugsy Siegel was sitting on a couch in the living room of Virginia Hill's home at 810 Linden Drive in Beverly Hills. As he was reading a newspaper, an assassin fired a number of shots, from a rifle, through the front window. Siegel was shot twice in the head, with one bullet exiting his skull near the bridge of his nose, causing his left eye to be blown out of its socket. He was also hit twice in the torso. His death was instantaneous and the graphic photos of his bullet-riddled body made headline news. Although there were enough suspects to go around, Eddie Cannizzaro, the "Cat Man," a connected west coast mobster, made a deathbed confession that he was the one who carried out the contract. Although the case isn't closed, it is cold and will most likely remain so, as it rests on the desk of Detective Les Zoeller of the Los Angeles Police Department. — Hank Bracker

Fire shot through my body at his touch. The scent of his skin caused my brain to short circuit. I knew I was only feeling that way because I'd been missing Kyle. This was the longest we'd been apart. Nearly a week and we'd been so busy we hadn't had a chance to really talk. That's what this was-I missed Kyle. I needed to remind myself not to mistake the pull I felt toward Tristan as anything other than my yearning for Kyle. — Adriane Leigh

he said that he couldn't even give people who'd been shot the bullets he dug out of them because they're considered "medical waste" once they've been pulled out of your body. This seems a bit hypocritical because my daughter came out of my body and they totally let me take her home. — Jenny Lawson

They all seemed hungry, happy, and healthy enough in their buzzing - oh the days were hot, and the noise of bees filled the air that was dusty with pollen and sun haze, and there were tiny black flies stuck to one another crowded by the creek and a creek stink rising from the deep pool under the willow tree where a wheat sack of new kittens had been drowned, and their tiny terrible struggling had shot like an electric current through the confusion of muddy water and up the arm of the person who had tied the stone around the mouth of the sack and thrust it into the water; and the culprit had not been able to brush away the current; it penetrated her body and made her heart beat with fear and pity. I was the culprit. — Janet Frame

I was a knight," Andrea said. "I'm not just going to start shooting every dickhead who mouths off to me."
"Just making sure."
"Besides, if I shot him, I'd do it so nobody could trace it back to me. I'd shoot him somewhere remote, his head would explode like a melon, and they would never find his body. He would just vanish. — Ilona Andrews

[bookcover:Lessons Learned|13578440] Another shot, and for some reason, I'm the only one who can't move. Who can't scream. Who can't do anything but watch as the young man's body slumps over his tray. Finally, I find my voice and scream his name. — Sydney Logan

Another low moan rose from the grass. "That was a good shot," Mother said, nodding toward it.
"Not good enough."
Mother shrugged. "It was dark." She rose and stretched out her stiff body, a sign that she truly felt safe. "You'll get better."
Another cry. Mother licked her finger, tested the wind, and fired once into the night.
Silence fell. — Mindy McGinnis

His voice just shot through me. It's amazing, the things your body will do just when you don't want them to: heart speeding up, fingers aching. I'd always liked his voice, low and laid-back, the kind of voice that made you listen, a voice that still caused me to teeter when I heard it saying my old nickname. — Sara Zarr

A second red-orange spearhead leaps straight at O'Shaughnessy. The whole world seems to stand still. Then the gun behind it crashes, and there's a cataclysm of pain all over him, and a shock goes through him as if he ran head-on into a stone wall.
A voice from the car says blurredly, while the ground rushes up to meet him, 'Finish him up, you guys! I'm getting so I don't trust their looks no more, no matter how stiff they act!' ("Jane Brown's Body") — Cornell Woolrich

I've always been accused by my detractors of some sort of moral failure, cowardice, or even lack of humanity by not portraying the human form. I respond that I do better by portraying traces of character and intentions of human volition that no mug or body shot can ever exude. — Robert Polidori

With that Nox turned a knob. There was a delay, but that was how the machine worked. First it gathered information about the subject, feeling, sensing - like a fighter in a ring, circling his opponent.
Kaleb sensed it, too. It was as if a doctor palpated his flesh, pushing his skin. It tingled gently. The tingling surged through his whole body. Was this it? Kaleb thought. Visions from his past shot through his brain. His mother. Father. Zenobia. Joan and Reck. The Three Musketeers. Pleasant memories.
Then the machine found what it searched for, and it acted. Waves of pain shot through his entire body, causing him to arch his back. He screamed in agony, his screams reverberating across the canyon. Then all of his muscles constricted. He couldn't breathe, couldn't even scream. It seemed to last forever. It stopped, and his muscles relaxed, allowing him to breath. — Cate Campbell Beatty

I've had my body manipulated so many different times for so many different reasons, whether it's paparazzi photographers or for film posters. [The topless Interview shoot] was one of the ones where I said: 'OK, I'm fine doing the topless shot so long as you don't make them any bigger or retouch.' Because it does feel important to say it really doesn't matter what shape you are. I think women's bodies are a battleground, and photography is partly to blame. Our society is so photographic now, it becomes more difficult to see all of those different varieties of shape. — Keira Knightley

Who else is going?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Just you and me."
My mood promptly shot up past 'cheerful' and went straight to 'estatic.' Me and Dimitri. Alone. In a car. This might very well be worth a surprise test.
"How far is it?" Silently, I begged for it to be a really long drive. Like, one that would take a week. And would involve us staying overnight in luxury hotels. Maybe we'd get stranded in a snowbank, and only body heat would keep us alive.
"Five hours"
"Oh."
A bit less than I'd hoped for. Still, five hours was better than nothing. It didn't rule out the snowbank possibility, either. — Richelle Mead

In a proud fatherly sadomasicisticly way, I am thrilled when I get hit. As every deep purple bruise on my body represented a perfect swing.
If I were to lift my shirt at any time there would be 4-5 bruises on my body ...
As soon as I was able to, I would throw batting practice again from the short distance, and take another shot if necessary to keep the boys in the zone. — JohnA Passaro

Don't you ever pull that shit again," he said between bruising kisses. He pressed her up against the wall and trapped her with his body.
"Take your own advice," she shot back and wrapped her legs around his waist. — Mila Rossi

Time seemed to stand still as they remained embraced, him holding his body weight on his elbows as he looked down at her and grinned.
"Now that's a vacation." She laughed and then his grin fell and he shook his head.
"Like a couple of horny teenagers with no thought of tomorrow and no thought of protection. We should both be shot."
"Can you wait until the glow leaves me before you shoot me?" she asked.
He smiled down at her. "You are glowing. You look gorgeous." "It's the look of a sated woman." "I like it. — Carla Cassidy

I don't need to lie down," she groused as she stared at the ceiling over their bed.
When Wrath didn't reply, she turned her head on the pillow and shot a glare in his direction.
He was sitting at the foot of the mattress, shoulders set, jaw locked, huge body still as stone.
"I'm fine," she tacked on.
"Uh-huh."
"This is going to be a really long couple of months if we worry about every little twinge."
"You just tried to throw up your liver."
"I did not."
"So you were working on your pancreas?"
She crossed her arms over her chest.
"I can feel you glaring at me," Wrath said.
"Well, I am. This is ridiculous. — J.R. Ward

She unlocked her hands from my neck and pushed her body against my arms, but i wasn't ready to let her go-not yet. "Noah?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm kind of done hugging you."
Reluctanly, i let go. One shot. One fucking shot. What the hell do i do now? What the hell do i want? Echo. To feel her body wrapped around mine, to smell her enticing scent, to let her deliver me to that place where i would forget everything but her. — Katie McGarry

For inspiration, I would turn again and again to Lieutenant Jason "Jay" Redman, a Navy SEAL who had been shot seven times and had undergone nearly two dozen surgeries. He had placed a hand-drawn sign on the door to his room at Bethesda Naval Hospital. It read: ATTENTION. To all who enter here. If you are coming into this room with sorrow or to feel sorry for my wounds, go elsewhere. The wounds I received I got in a job I love, doing it for people I love, supporting the freedom of a country I deeply love. I am incredibly tough and will make a full recovery. What is full? That is the absolute utmost physically my body has the ability to recover. Then I will push that about 20% further through sheer mental tenacity. This room you are about to enter is a room of fun, optimism, and intense rapid regrowth. If you are not prepared for that, go elsewhere. From: The Management. — Robert M. Gates

But as much as Greyson's overly warm body had to be worked around and compensated for in summer, at that moment she was eternally and ridiculously grateful for it. She almost thought she heard her own skin sizzle when it came into contact with his: some of the cramping in her muscles relaxed.
Only to tense up again when she saw, through her half-closed eyes, Greyson's second gaurd and Malleus's brother, Maleficarum, advancing on her with a hypodermic needle. Something clear squirted ominously from it's sharp silver tip.
"Oh, no," she managed, "You are not giving me a shot."
"'Sonly under the skin, m'lady. You'll barely even feel it, honest." Maleficarum's features did no do "innocent" well: he looked like a serial killer trying to hide a severed head behind his back. — Stacia Kane

Christ, she missed him outrageously. Disgusted with herself, she ducked her head under the spray and let it pound on her brain.
When hands slipped around her waist, then slid up to cup her breasts, she barely jolted. But her heart leaped. She knew his touch, the feel of those long, slim fingers, the texture of those wide palms. She tipped her head back, inviting a mouth to the curve of her shoulder.
"Mmm. Summerset. You wild man."
Teeth nipped into flesh and made her chuckle. Thumbs brushed over her soapy nipples and made her moan.
"I'm not going to fire him." Roarke trailed a hand down the center of her body.
"It was worth a shot. You're back ... " His fingers dipped expertly inside her, slick and slippery, so that she arched, moaned, and came simultaneously. "Early," she finished on an explosive breath. "God."
"I'd say I was just on time. — J.D. Robb

I sensed them creeping around in the living room as my body shot to instant wakefulness. It probably sounds weird, but I could hear them breathing — Robert J. Crane

To the eye a shot is only geometry and yardage and wind, but to a still-beating heart pulling a trigger on another living body and watching it fall is to be avoided, it does not give you a good feeling. If you aren't a psychopath or a male. — Brian McGreevy

Come on, Caulder, come on, baby! By now she jumped up and down like the kids in the stands. Five, four, three ... She grabbed her other camera. The buzzer rang and Caulder's body lingered against the side of the bull. He was hung up and he tried to get his hand free. The bull still bucked and twisted, jumped and dropped. Velia grabbed her video camera. If she missed a shot like this, she'd probably be fired by the man himself. — Mary J. McCoy-Dressel

I can't even describe to anybody what it feels like to have my naked body shot across the world like a news flash against my will. It just makes me feel like a piece of meat that's being passed around for profit. — Jennifer Lawrence

I submit that tennis is the most beautiful sport there is and also the most demanding. It requires body control, hand-eye coordination, quickness, flat-out speed, endurance, and that weird mix of caution and abandon we call courage. It also requires smarts. Just one single shot in one exchange in one point of a high-level match is a nightmare of mechanical variables. — David Foster Wallace

I pressed my forehead to Mal's and heard him whisper, "I'll meet you in the meadow." Something inside me gave way, in fury, in hopelessness, in the certainty of my own death. I felt Mal's blood beneath my palms, saw the pain in his beloved face. A volcra screeched in triumph as its talons sank into my shoulder. Pain shot through my body. And the world went white. I closed my eyes as a sudden, piercing flood of light exploded across my vision. It seemed to fill my head, blinding me, drowning me. From somewhere above, I heard a horrible shriek. I felt the volcra's claws loosen their grip, felt the thud as I fell forward and my head connected with the deck, and then I felt nothing at all. — Leigh Bardugo

Hey, Megan?"
She peeked one lid open. "Hmm?"
"Can we have ice cream for breakfast?"
Her mouth curved into a grin. She couldn't think of anyone, save maybe Kate, who could draw a smile from her so quickly. But he was just unexpectedly adorable. "Maybe. If you're a good boy." She cringed. Why the hell did she say that? Was she ... flirting with him? Restraining a grimace, she chanced a look at him.
His dark gaze shifted from playful to scorching. "And what would that entail?"
Heat shot through her body, and unfamiliar desire pooled in her belly. Flustered, she kicked off the top cover. "Not asking questions like that, to start. Now go back to sleep. It's too damn early to be awake."
She heaved a deep breath to calm her racing heart .
"if you say so." Even with his eyes closed, a smile continued to play around his lips. — Laura Kaye

Charlie touched her face gently with long, tanned fingers. "Sometimes I don't know half of what you say, but I'm damn glad I get to hear it."
"I bet you say that to all the mortals," she joked, then winced as the pain shot through her again.
"You've been hurt," he said, as if noticing for the first time all the blood and gore and exposed body goo.
"Yeah, but it only hurts when I laugh."
"Then don't laugh," he murmured, finishing the old routine as if he'd been born into Vaudeville. His hands gently probed the edges of the gash. — Cheryl Sterling

I feel that the Photograph creates my body or mortifies it, according to its caprice (apology of this mortiferous power: certain Communards paid with their lives for their willingness or even their eagerness to pose on the barricades: defeated, they were recognized by Thiers's police and shot, almost every one). — Roland Barthes

The closer he came, the bigger his eyes got through those thick lenses.
It was downright sexy when his eyelids shut and the lashes fanned out on his cheekbones. His lips brushed against hers and heat shot through her body. One arm tangled up in her hair and the other snaked its way around her midriff. His tongue gently parted her lips and he made love to her mouth. — Carolyn Brown

I woke with a start, at first I thought I had trumped myself awake again - it was summer so there was lots of fresh vegetables in our diet. But as I listened through the darkness I realized that something far worse was going on. My mother and father were having the row to end all rows. A sudden shot of fear ripped through my pre-pubic body. And now I did trump. The noise fizzled out of my back passage like a child calling for help. That child was me. — Alan Partridge

Here," he growled and I blinked.
"Deacon, I'm not a big fan of - "
"Future," he cut me off. "Assert your feminism when I'm not three seconds away from fuckin' you on your porch. I come to you, that's gonna happen. You come to me, maybe it won't."
Maybe?
I didn't ask that.
I asked , "So if you get your way and I come to you, you can miraculously control your base instincts?"
His reply?
"One."
My body jerked and my brows shot together as the meaning of that word hit me.
"Are you counting down - ?"
"Two."
I planted my hands on my hips.
"You are!" I cried angrily. "You're counting - "
"Fuck it," he muttered, took two long strides, and I was in his arms. — Kristen Ashley

In the Spring of 1962, a white postal worker from Baltimore, William Moore, decided to use his ten-day vacation to showcase his passion for Civil Rights. Moore planned a "Freedom Walk" from Chattanooga, Tennessee, across Alabama, to Jackson, Mississippi, where he would confront Governor Ross Barnett about the injustice of racial segregation. Moore, who had a history of psychiatric illness, entered Alabama wearing signs that read MISSISSIPPI OR BUST, END SEGREGATION IN AMERICA, and EQUAL RIGHTS FOR ALL MEN. The much-publicized march ended tragically, when Moore's body was found on a roadside near Gadsen, Alabama - he had been shot to death. — Jeffrey K. Smith

My mouth blooms like a cut.
I've been wronged all year, tedious
nights, nothing but rough elbows in them
and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby
crybaby, you fool!
Before today my body was useless.
Now it's tearing at its square corners.
It's tearing old Mary's garments off, knot by knot
and see - Now it's shot full of these electric bolts.
Zing! A resurrection!
Once it was a boat, quite wooden
and with no business, no salt water under it
and in need of some paint. It was no more
than a group of boards. But you hoisted her, rigged her.
She's been elected.
My nerves are turned on. I hear them like
musical instruments. Where there was silence
the drums, the strings are incurably playing. You did this.
Pure genius at work. Darling, the composer has stepped
into fire. — Anne Sexton

There is a legend that elephant dispose of their dead in secret burial grounds and that none of these has ever been discovered. In support of this, there is only the fact that the body of an elephant, unless he had been trapped or shot in his tracks, has rarely been found. What happens to the old and diseased?
Not only natives, but many white settlers, have supported for years the legend (if it is a legend) that elephant will carry their wounded and their sick hundreds of miles, if necessary, to keep them out of the hands of their enemies. And it is said that elephant never forget (206). — Beryl Markham

Today, these doormen, they wear body armour, armoured gloves, stab proof vests and all sorts; it's totally changed, you get shot at the door you are paid to stand at, never mind getting stabbed. Druggies go away, get a gun, return and start shooting at you! Yeah, times are changing fast and there are some nice kids out there and some of them are fucking wild. I can't see it getting better with these drug mugs because they get on them and they can't get off them again. — Stephen Richards

Certainly I'm participating in an already established and awesome tradition, but it's a tradition that sort of shoots up and through the mainstream in short bursts and pulses and then gets diluted. Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson shot up and then got sucked back down underground under more entertaining and less radical versions of body and self - poetry and prose that posited bodies in more perfect union with good citizenship. — Lidia Yuknavitch

We ain't in California no more," Pilate said. "Every fuckin' body up here's got a gun. Even that old lady in the hamburger shop, shot Michelle. — John Sandford

Mad Rogan was walking next to me with that same confident stride that had made me notice him back in the arboretum, and I knew precisely where he was and how much distance separated us. My whole body was focused on him. I wanted him to touch me. I didn't want him touching me. I was waiting for him to touch me. I didn't know what the hell I wanted.
"Did you like the carnations?"
I reached into my pocket and handed him a small red card. "Texas Children's Hospital is grateful to you for your generous donation. Thanks to you, every one of their rooms has beautiful flowers this morning. They think it might be at least partially tax deductible, and if your people talk to their people, the hospital will provide the necessary paperwork."
Mad Rogan took the card, brushing my hand with his warm, dry fingers. The card shot out of his hand and landed in the nearby trash bin. — Ilona Andrews

Marissa came around the corner, looking Grace Kelly-fine as usual. With her long blond hair and her precision-molded face, she was known as the great beauty of the species, and even V, who didn't go for her type, had to show love.
"Hello, boys - " Marissa stopped and stared at Butch. "Good ... Lord ... look at those pants."
Butch winced. "Yeah, I know. They're - "
"Could you come over here?" She started backing down the hall to their bedroom. "I need you to come back here for a minute. Or ten."
Butch's bonding scent flared to a dull roar, and V knew damn well the guy's body was hardening for sex.
"Baby, you can have me for as long as you want me."
Just as the cop left the living room, he shot a look over his shoulder. "I'm so feeling these leathers. Tell Fritz I want fifty pairs of them. Stat. — J.R. Ward

The front door flew open, and Mary shot out of the house, jumping off the porch, not even bothering with the steps to the ground. She ran over the frost-laden grass in her bare feet and threw herself at him, grabbing on to his neck with both arms. She held him so tightly his spine cracked.
She was sobbing. Bawling. Crying so hard her whole body was shaking.
He didn't ask any questions, just wrapped himself around her.
I'm not okay," she said hoarsely between breaths. "Rhage ... I'm not okay. — J.R. Ward

The clurichaun wasn't going to be winning any beauty contests. Not only was he short - four feet at best - but he was rather squat. Not brawny, but of a sturdy build with shorter-than-average legs and overly long arms. His face, which could best be described as having been sculpted by a young child, didn't improve upon his unusual proportions. His nose was bulbous and lumpy, his ears stuck out from his head, and his short hair shot out from his head in uneven spikes. His clothes were another matter entirely. The stained and ripped jeans were held up by a twine belt, and the faded plaid shirt was half-untucked, missing buttons, and one arm was holding on to the body of the shirt by a thread. "Oh, — N.E. Conneely

He shot everything that moved in a blind fury. It was as if he were floating outside his body, his flesh acting on pure animal instinct. To kill or be killed. It was exhilarating. — Rebecca M. Gibson

Lot's Wife

And the just man trailed God's messenger,
his huge, light shape devoured the black hill.
But uneasiness shadowed is wife and spoke to her:
'It's not too late, you can look back still

At the red towers of Sodom, the place that bore you,
the square in which you sang, the spinning-shed,
at the empty windows of that upper storey
where children blessed your happy marriage-bed.'

Her eyes that were still turning when a bolt
of pain shot through them, were instantly blind;
her body turned into transparent salt,
and her swift legs were rooted to the ground.

Who mourns one woman in a holocaust?
Surely her death has no significance?
Yet in my heart she never will be lost,
she who gave up her life to steal one glance.

1922-24 — Anna Akhmatova

He didn't mince words. "Anyone that wants to live, get in." His voice was deep and powerful, matching the promise his body made. He was confident and self-assured, the kind of man you wanted in your corner when the monsters came knocking. With his arrival, our chance of survival had just shot up exponentially. — Rose Wynters

Every shot feels like the first shot of the day. If I'm on the range hitting shot after shot, I can hit them just as good as I did when I was 30. But out on the course, your body changes between shots. You get out of the cart, and you've got this 170-yard 5-iron over a bunker, and it goes about 138. — Lee Trevino

Between his dueling and military career, Jackson had been shot so many times that scholars says he "rattled like a bag of marbles" when he walked as a result of all of the never-removed bullets taking up residence in his body. The pieces of shrapnel he carries around like internal medals of honor are about ten times larger than your balls and infinity times as armored. — Daniel O'Brien

Photos should focus on your waist up, unless you have amazing legs. Then it's okay to include one or two full-body shots in your gallery. The majority of your photos should be closer up, highlighting your face. Don't stage a smile. Instead, try to laugh just before the shot is taken. Flirty smiles that don't look cheesy also work. Make eye contact with the camera. Aim to take most of your photos outdoors. — Amy Webb

I desecrated my own house?" Chance snorted in disbelief. "Then swam out to Fort Sumter and played paint-by-numbers on the walls, all to make Benjamin Blue like me? Don't flatter yourself, kid."
Ben's eyes cut like diamonds. "You act like such a big shot. But you don't fool me. Do you have any friends, Chance? Is there a single person who cares where you are right now?"
"Ben!" I blurted, horrified. "That's not - "
"You're one to talk." Chance stepped closer to Ben and matched him glare for glare. "I've never betrayed my friends. Not like you, eh, Benjamin?"
Ben's whole body went still. "What did you say?"
"Guys, guys!" Hi half rose, palms up. "There's no need for anyone to get upset. I've got Go-Gurt in the mini-fridge. I know when I get hungry, my manners can - "
"Shut up, Hi." Ben and Chance, in unison. — Kathy Reichs

Someone told me that they didn't want to take a flu shot because they didn't want to put a foreign substance in their body. What do they think they do at dinner every night? — Michael Specter

And he's alone there, with the unconscious pilot lying a little way off for company, and some other guy he's never even seen, only spoken to over the radio.
He wants to sleep so badly - dying they call it - and he can't. Something's bothering him to keep him awake. ("Jane Brown's Body") — Cornell Woolrich

I believe in making my potential models comfortable,' he explained when she shot a surprised look at him. 'I'm considerate, unlike some artists who bend their sitters into difficult positions and expect them to stay there for hours. My demands are entirely reasonable.'
For a moment, her libido got interested in his demands. What would it be like to listen to the soft caress of his voice as he told her how he wanted her? To have those midnight-blue eyes roam over every inch of her body? To be passive, helpless, whilst he did whatever he pleased? — Christine Stovell

There were two things Chris knew well: his rifle and a woman's body. With either, he could spend hours studying their intracacies, their individual quirks and hots spots ... their flaws.
He knew when one of them was going to jam up and let him down or to give him the shot of his life. Rifles and women - he loved them both, but not necessarily in that order. — Stephanie Tyler

Grab your cock, McKay," Trav rasped. "Squeeze it, beat it, jerk it, fucking grab it and get off!" Mackey was as rough with himself as Trav was with him, and a new smacking sound filled the room. "Fuckin' Trav!" Time stopped and Mackey's entire body bowed painfully off the bed. His legs shot out straight and his toes curled, and Trav spread his thighs with force and shoved inside one more time. The room turned black and every muscle from his cock to his taint to his own empty asshole clenched painfully as he poured himself into Mackey Sanders, and Mackey's groan could probably be heard across the hall. Trav — Anonymous

My ears pricked at a sound from the bathroom, a familiar moan, and I shot up from the bed, racing to the door. Throwing it open, I froze at the sight of Gianna in the shower, with her hand between her legs. Oh, fuck no. Stalking over, I shoved the door open, snatched her wrist away, and used it to drag her up against my body. Bringing her fingers to my mouth, I licked them clean, eliciting another moan. Satisfied that I'd gotten all of her essence, I gripped both of her wrists and anchored them behind her back. "No one makes you come but me," I snarled. "Not even you. Those sounds, your moans and screams of pleasure, they belong to me, Gianna. They are mine and I will not share them." I stared at her with a hardened gaze, making sure my warning was clear. "If you need a release, you will come to me, or you will wait. Do you understand? — Fiona Davenport

Furi's palm was dry and the painful friction he jerked his cock with was tipping him over the edge fast. He opened his mouth wider, feeling Syn's length harden to granite right before the first hot splash of come hit his tongue. Syn bucked hard against him as usual, his orgasm kicking his ass. Syn bowed over Furi's head and grunted hard as the ruthless tremors racked his body. Furi barely had time to swallow the first couple of spurts before more creamy goodness flooded his mouth. Salty, warm and plentiful. Furi squeezed his eyes shut and kept the tight hold on Syn's cock in his mouth while he fucked his own a couple more times into his fist and shot his load over his other hand. Furi released a long throaty groan while he milked his cock head for the last drops. Furi — A.E. Via

Now, being a girl, I was ashamed of my body and my lack of strength. So I tried to be a man. I shot, rode, jumped, and took part in all the fights of the boys. — Agnes Smedley

Included with the basic package is five hour reception coverage, a photo montage at the beginning of the video, and a highlight recap at the end. The photo montage includes up to 25 customer supplied pictures and an invitation, set to music along with titling and serves as the opening to the video. The photo montage is prepared ahead of time, days before the reception but it is not intended to be shown at the reception. Rather it is intended to be a professional quality introduction to the your fully edited video and it will distinguish your work from that of non-professionals. The highlight recap is similar to the photo montage as they are both set to music, but the recap is composed of short snippets of video that you shot from the event, rather than photos that were supplied by the customer. The finished edited video is comprised of three main parts; the photo montage, the main body, and the highlight recap. The entire video is typically two hours in duration. — Jeffrey Goldberg

I saw a moving sight the other morning before breakfast in a little hotel where I slept in the dusty fields. The young man of the house shot a little wolf called coyote in the early morning. The little heroic animal lay on the ground, with his big furry ears, and his clean white teeth, and his little cheerful body, but his little brave life was gone. It made me think how brave all living things are. Here little coyote was, without any clothes or house or books or anything, with nothing to pay his way with, and risking his life so cheerfully - and losing it - just to see if he could pick up a meal near the hotel. He was doing his coyote-business like a hero, and you must do your boy-business, and I my man-business bravely, too, or else we won't be worth as much as a little coyote. — William James

I recognized Meg's swirly handwriting and crooked my index finger into the side of the envelope to rip it open. There was no letter. Just a picture.
A picture of Meg holding a picture of me.
The word HOME echoed through my body like a rifle shot. — Laura Anderson Kurk

One of the things that I miss the most about cricket and batting in particular is that meditation of cricket, that involvement of myself - mind, body and spirit - to delivering that one specific process, which is to execute a cricket shot. It is a beautiful feeling; it is very hard to replicate. — Matthew Hayden

didn't even know if I was going to come back. Janson The peaceful sleep I'd felt faded away to the terror of a dream. My father and his cigars, burning them into my body. I reached for Kathryn, to hold her close to me and push away the dream, but she wasn't there. Her body wasn't there to keep me warm. I sat up like a shot, my eyes open, and — Kaylee Song

Air warfare is a shot through the brain, not a hacking to pieces of the enemy's body. — J. F. C. Fuller

Hey, here come our ladies. Just looking at them gives you the uh, doesn't it?" McNab gave the sound a push that was unmistakably sexual as he grinned down the long corridor where Peabody got off the glide with Eve.

Then he shot Roarke a quick look. "I mean the uh me for mine, you for yours. It's not like I get the uh for the lieutenant, for which she would kick my ass, then leave you to turn what was left of it into bloody dust. Which She-Body would then grind into the earth before she set it on fire. I was just saying."

"I know what you were saying." McNab could, invariably, entertain him. "And I couldn't agree more, with everything including the bloody dust. They are compelling women. — J.D. Robb

Judge's arms was stretched out the entire width of the bed, as if his body were being offered up for sacrifice. His fists clenched the sides of the mattress as his orgasm burst out of hiding, barreling to the surface. His body locked up tight, every muscle flexed and taut. Judge grimaced and groaned at the intense pleasure. "Fuck. I feel you, Judge. Come with me, come with me," Michaels crooned. Rubbing Judge everywhere he could reach. "Your body is so gorgeous." "Austin," Judge whispered shakily, when lightning shot through his balls and the first jet of come made him jerk hard enough to almost knock Michaels off him. Heat spread beneath him, soaking through the sheets and probably into the mattress. He shook violently with each release, his orgasm riding him as hard as Michaels was. "Fuck. — A.E. Via

She cannot relax. The world around her is a living, breathing metaphor. The boat is her mother's frail body, groaning under Eleanor's weight. The sea is the poison that waits below, ready to consume her when she stumbles. The island is death, and she carves a resolute path - "a straight shot," as Jack said - to death's very door. Eleanor — Jason Gurley

[Trip] "You're a pain in the ass. A wordy pain in the ass."
"Here are two more words for you. Interfering jerk."
"Stubborn idiot."
"Government patsy."
"Bookworm," Trip shot back, and then he had her up against her car, his mouth on hers, his hands on her body, taking as much of her as he could get. She came right back at him, curling her hands into his shirt, trying to drag him closer, which was impossible since the only thing between them was a couple of thin layers of clothing and enough heat to cause spontaneous combustion. — Penny McCall

The moment my bare feet make contact with the wood floor, my breath catches in my throat. Blake swivels his body around to greet me.
"Morning, roomie."
His voice is like a shot of caffeine that ignites my body. How does he do that? — Alex Rosa

Marius glowered at the long cone-shaped ship with its stupid curving tailfins. His field scan swept out. It was an illusion, produced by a small module on the airlock floor. He smashed a disruptor pulse into the solido projector, and the starship image shivered, shrinking down to a beautiful, naked young girl with blonde hair that hung halfway down her back. 'Oh, Howard,' she moaned sensually, running her hands up her body, 'do that again.' Marius let out an incoherent cry, and shot the projector again. — Peter F. Hamilton

Simon stopped breathing until her forefinger touched his nipple, and then his hand shot up to cover hers. "I want you," he said.
Her eyes flicked downward, and her lips curved ever so slightly. "I know."
"No," he groaned, pulling her closer. "I want to be in your heart. I want-" His entire body shuddered when their skin touched. "I want to be in your soul. — Julia Quinn

Drink [the shot of tequila], Mia." He repeated, quietly, using my name this time. He leaned in close to me so that I could feel the heat of his body. "Believe me," His eyes locked on mine and in a hoarse voice he whispered, "you're going to want to be drunk for what I'm going to do to you tonight. — Donya Petrock

It happened as it always did, swallowing her swiftly and completely. Intense. Painful. Quick, vivid colors spun beneath her eyelids. Sounds were sharp inside her skull. Fire shot up through her bones. She may have been screaming and she wouldn't have known. There was smoke in her nose, thick and black, and she couldn't breathe. It stung her eyes and licked at her skin. Wood and metal crashed down as skin blistered and popped and she knew this wasn't her, knew it was someone else, someone with a bigger body, bigger boots and darker jeans, and big ol' hands with scars on the fingers. Men's hands. Nails blunt and dirty with oil and grease and burning and- The cars were on fire. Paper burned and curled and rags ignited, the cement floor pockmarked by flash fires. Meat withered in her nose and she realized it was her. Him. Dancing embers blackened and burned bone. He screamed and she hoped she was not. He writhed and she really hoped she was not. He was dying, dead, and- — Angele Gougeon

In the official police account, the plumber was shot and robbed on the street. Not true - guys stick together - the detective didn't want the victim's wife to know he was flagrante delicto with a prostitute when wounded. I didn't want her hurt or embarrassed either. She figured it out herself. I met her later, after their divorce, and she brought up the subject. The hospital returned her injured husband's garments. She was washing them when she realized that, although there were a number of bullet holes in his body, there were none in his clothes. — Edna Buchanan

Fake is not a word I like to use because there's nothing fake about what I do. It's a show, it's a predetermined outcome; we're putting on a television drama, action, comedy, whatever you want to call it - but it's not fake. Fake would be if I was just about to take a body slam, and my stuntman did it. Fake would be if I was going to take a chair shot to the head, and the chair was made of rubber. I'll tell the world that it's a show, but I hate the word fake. It's such an unfair term to us. — Chris Jericho

Moments later Griffin had Finley in the carriage, and Jasper sat on the seat across from them.
"What's the matter with her?" he asked Griffin.
Griffin shook his head. "Nothing. She's just two personas struggling for dominance in one body."
The cowboy's eyebrows shot up, but his expression was sympathetic. "Poor little thing. — Kady Cross

Sow flowers to make a garden bloom around you,
The thorns you sow will prick your own feet.
Arrows shot at others
Will return to hit you as they fall.
You yourself will come to teeter on the lip
Of a well dug to undermine another.
Though you look at others with contempt,
It's you whose body will be reduced to dust.
Humanity is all one body;
To torture another is simply to wound yourself.
[ ... ]Make your path straight now, by the bright light of day;
For pitch darkness will come without warning. — Rahman Baba

The wind blew through the window. The trousers swayed. Doubtless when they were on Mr. Craggs, the trousers looked splendid and went perfectly well together with his body. But like this, isolated in space, Mr. Cragg's trousers were nightmarish.
The wind blew through the window. As they swayed, the trousers were alive. A shot, truncated, square creature consisting entirely of legs, belly and what went with them. And now it would get down and start walking among people and over people and grow and ... — Yevgeny Zamyatin

Hey, that victory weed was the only smoke I've had in the last six months," Duke protested ... "You know my body is a temple."
"Yeah, but your mouth is an atheist," Ethan shot back. — Evangeline Anderson

But I fired four shots more into the inert body, on which they left no visible trace. And each successive shot was another loud, fateful rap on the door of my undoing. — Albert Camus

In health of mind and body, men should see with their own eyes, hear and speak without trumpets, walk on their feet, not on wheels, and work and war with their arms, not with engine-beams, nor rifles warranted to kill twenty men at a shot before you can see them. — John Ruskin

Well, on that day I ceased cleansing my body. No more brushing my teeth, no more washing my hair, no baths, no soap, no water. Thirty days of debris build. I stopped shavin' and I was 18, had a little scraggly beard, really looked like a hippie ... Then two weeks before, I stopped eating any food with nutritional value ... Then a week before, I stopped going to the bathroom. I did it in my pants. poop, piss the whole shot. My pants got crusted up. — Ted Nugent

Leliana advanced like a predator, hair lashing like a whip behind her. She abandoned the reins, riding the horse like they had merged into one charging centaur.

She aroused images of deities on winged horses, of untamed forests in a windstorm, of legendary heroes of legendary quests. Burning desire shot straight to his loins at the sight of her.

He ached for this woman, this goddess that streaked across his vision like a figment of his imagination, of his deepest desires and most guarded wishes. He could lose himself, mind, body, and soul, to a woman like that. Any sane man would. — Natalia Marx

Covering up the evidence?" Hunter drawled, appearing in the doorway and causing me to jump.
"Yes." I continued to apply as he leaned casually against the frame, watching me.
"Good idea, though it kinda makes me want to mess it all up again." Tingles shot through my body, and I glanced at him. "You're so bad." He arched his eyebrow. "You have no idea. — Lacey Weatherford

I went in and said, "If I see one more gratuitous shot of a woman's body, I'm quitting ... " I think the show should be emotional story lines, morals, real- life heroes. And that's what we're doing — David Hasselhoff

So that's how we end up helping Aviva pick out a male escort. Even Darcy is impressed with Eugene's organization; each profile in the boy binder has two pictures, a head shot and a full-body shot, and lists essential information: age, school, height, weight, extracurriculars, hobbies, and dance ability (which ranges from "occasional Dance Dance Revolution participation" to "so good he could back up the Biebs"). — Flynn Meaney

The saucy Miss Tottenham slipped the strawberry into her delectable mouth, all the while looking at Cyrus. His thigh muscles tensed inside the velvet prison of his breeches. Hot pleasure shot through his body at the sight of the red berry slipping through her lips. Adding to his misery, a spurt of juice from the tender morsel painted her bottom lip red. He nearly groaned.
Tradition named the apple as the fruit of man's downfall, but tonight he'd argue mightily for the dangers of a ripe strawberry on a certain woman's lips. — Gina Conkle

They only shot a body but they cannot shoot my dreams. — Malala Yousafzai

In greenside bunkers, the big thing is to adapt your stance to the shot. It's rare that you get a flat lie in the sand, so I make sure to align my body to the slope. Then I blast the ball out by splashing the sand underneath it. — Jordan Spieth

The first time I heard Bob Dylan, I was in the car with my mother listening to WMCA, and on came that snare shot that sounded like somebody'd kicked open the door to your mind ... The way that Elvis freed your body, Dylan freed your mind, and showed us that because the music was physical did not mean it was anti-intellect. He had the vision and talent to make a pop song so that it contained the whole world. He invented a new way a pop singer could sound, broke through the limitations of what a recording could achieve, and he changed the face of rock'n'roll for ever and ever. — Bruce Springsteen

Daniel exposed his machete-like fangs much to the delight of Hartwell, who was gasping for air like a fish out of water. He furiously bit into Hartwell's neck and drank his blood until he could sense the injured party slipping away. The beauty of a life on the edge did not escape Daniel at this moment. He wiped his mouth clean of Hartwell's blood and then bit into his own wrist, while also using his powerful mind to pry open Hartwell's mouth.
Daniel's blood flowed through the body at rest and shot around Hartwell's veins like he had ingested a case of energy drinks. — Phil Wohl

Fitz pulled her forward, and the warm tingling in her hand shot through her body
like a million feathers swelling underneath her skin, tickling her from the inside out. — Shannon Messenger

You have to learn to express differently. Whenever I do TV or film, I ask if I can see the shot to see, to see if it's full body or a close-up. That helps me understand how to communicate. — Denis O'Hare

The words shot through Vivi's bones and blood and muscle, and her body relaxed, so that when her feet touched the ground they met the earth differently, as though they had found roots that reached deep down and anchored to something tender and undamaged. — Rebecca Wells

So, yes, the Taliban have shot me. But they can only shoot a body. They cannot shoot my dreams, they cannot kill my beliefs, and they cannot stop my campaign to see every girl and every boy in school. — Malala Yousafzai

A small hole in his shirt revealed a gooey red blob right in the meaty part above his armpit, blood pouring from the wound. It hurt. It hurt bad. If he'd thought his headache downstairs had been tough, this was like three or four of those, all smashed into a coil of pain right there in his shoulder. And spreading through the rest of his body.
Newt was at his side, looking down with worried eyes.
"He shot me." It just came out, a new number one on the list of the dumbest things he'd ever said. The pain, like living metal staples running through his insides, pricking and scratching with their little sharp points. He felt his mind going dark for the second time that day. — James Dashner

Two shadowy figures had appeared in the distance. A young girl led a donkey by its halter, chattering to a child perched on its swaying back. What in God's name were they doing out alone at night? They headed down the dirt road straight toward the house where Tehrazzi was apparently holed up. Every muscle in her body went rigid with denial. "Oh no ... " Had Dec heard the kids? Did he know they were in danger? Could he alert the children before the air strike? Not if he hadn't seen them. What should she do? She was too afraid to yell out in case someone started shooting, but no way could she sit back and let those children suffer. The breath shot in and out of her nose as she counted backward from ten, praying Dec would do something so she wouldn't have to. Ten, nine, eight ... The little boy laughed. Bryn squeezed her eyes — Kaylea Cross

But this we know, the obstacle that checked
And tripped the body, shot the spirit on
Further than target ever showed or shone. — Robert Frost