Don't Beg Him Quotes & Sayings

His eyes are so heavy-lidded I can only see a slit of silver gleaming down at me. Then he licks his lips, and a thrill shoots up my spine. I know that look. I love that look. Wes shoves his trousers down. His thick erection slaps my abs. "I want to touch you," I beg. "No." His tone is commanding. It only intensifies the thrill. "Gotta hold you down so you don't go running off again." He gives me another lingering kiss just to drive the point home. And when he finally releases my wrists, he's off the bed before I can reach for him. "Don't move," he whispers, and I go still, watching in near fascination as he charges across the room to where he dropped his wallet. He opens it, extracts one of his handy packets of travel lube, and returns to the bed. "Arms over your head. — Sarina Bowen

My heart- dammit
my heart stopped in my chest as I stared at them. He had me by the throat because he had my whole world in his hands. I said one word I thought I'd never utter to the bastard.
"Please." I swallowed hard, but the words came out easier than I could've ever imagined. "Please don't hurt her."
"You'd beg for a human who wouldn't do the same for you?"
"I'd do anything for her."
"And I would do anything for him." Kat gasped out. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

She scuttled back from his approach and held up a hand. "No!"
Eversley stilled, his eyes widening at the words. "I beg your pardon?"
He was going to smell her. "Don't come any closer!"
"Why not?"
"It's not appropriate."
"What isn't?"
"You. Being here. So near. While I am abed."
One black brow rose. "I assure you, my lady, I've no intention of debauching you."
She had no doubt of that, considering her current situation, but she couldn't well tell him the truth. "Nevertheless, I must insist on the utmost propriety."
"Who do you think nursemaided you for the last day?"
Bollocks. He was right. He'd been close. He'd had to have noticed her odor. But it didn't mean he had to any longer. She straightened her shoulders, ignoring the twinge in the left. "My reputation, you see."
He blinked. "You were shot on the Great North Road while wearing stolen livery - — Sarah MacLean

Say that you don't love him!" Amarantha shrieked, and the blood on my hands became the blood of that rabbit - became the blood of what I had lost.
But I wouldn't say it. Because loving Tamlin was the only thing I had left, the only thing I couldn't sacrifice.
A path cleared through my red-and-black vision. I found Tamlin's eyes - wide as he crawled toward Amarantha, watching me die, and unable to save me while his wound slowly healed, while she still gripped his power.
Amarantha had never intended for me to live, never intended to let him go.
"Amarantha, stop this," Tamlin begged at her feet as he clutched the gaping wound in his chest. "Stop. I'm sorry - I'm sorry for what I said about Clythia all those years ago. Please. — Sarah J. Maas

Do you think they're doing it?' said Alexon. Charls coughed on his wine. 'I beg your pardon?' 'The King and Prince Laurent. Do you think they're doing it?' 'Well, it's not for me to say.' Charls avoided looked at the Prince. 'I think they are,' volunteered Guilliame. 'Charls met the Prince of Vere once. He said he was so beautiful that if he were a pet he'd spark a bidding war the likes of which no one had ever seen.' 'I meant, in an honourable way,' Charls said, quickly. 'And everyone in Akielos speaks of the virility of Damianos,' continued Guilliame. 'I don't think it should follow that - ' Charls began. 'My cousin told me,' said Alexon, proudly, 'he met a man who had once been a famous gladiator from Isthima. He lasted only minutes in the arena with Damianos. But afterwards Damianos had him in his chambers for six hours.' 'You see? How could a man like that resist a beauty like the Prince?' Guilliame sat back triumphantly. 'Seven hours,' said Lamen, frowning slightly. 'Here — C.S. Pacat

He grinned like a proud male and moved closer. "It was good."
"Are you asking or telling?"
"I know it was good."
She'd just experienced the longest orgasm in modern history. Who was she to be critical? "It was amazing."
He cupped her face and kissed her. "We could do it again."
"I don't think that's possible."
Instead of answering, he bent down and drew her nipple into his mouth. Then he reached between her legs and lightly touched her. Instantly jolts shot through her. She found herself wanting to pull him close and beg to be taken.
He drew back. "What do you think?"
She looked into his amused eyes. "That maybe I might have a little more time to make up for."
"I figured."
"Did you bring more condoms?"
"Yes."
"Thank God. — Susan Mallery

Miranda shook her head slowly. 'Good heavens. That's quite an act you put on.'
He drew himself up haughtily. 'I beg your pardon.'
'An act,' Miranda repeated. 'Stand as tall as you like, and frown at me all you wish. I saw you just now. You were feeding cats.'
'So I was. And do you make something of that?'
'You,' Miranda said daringly, 'have a kind heart.'
He turned away from her, the tails of his greatcoat swirling about him. 'Don't enlarge too much upon the matter. The cats were hungry. I had food. This seemed to be a problem with a ready solution. It's not kindness to solve problems; it's efficiency.'
'I stand corrected. You have an efficient heart. — Courtney Milan

With a regrettable sigh he shook his head.
"I'm sorry, but this isn't going to work out."
"What the hell are you doing, Trevor?" Hank
demanded anxiously. No doubt the man
wouldn't be getting laid tonight, but Trevor
couldn't help it. He had his standards and
this woman failed them.
"Maybe we could go grab a cup of coffee
somewhere and get to know-"
He held up his hand, stopping her before she
made an even bigger fool out of herself.
"Please stop."
"But, I was only-"
"Don't beg."
"I wasn't. I was just-"
"Begging?" Trevor guessed, sighing. "I know,
but you're going to have to accept that this
would never work out."
She frowned up at him. "I wasn't begging. I
was just going to suggest that we should-"
"Look," he said, reaching for the door, "this
s just getting sad. I'm just going to go before
things get out of hand. — R.L. Mathewson

Oakley won't," the duke said.
She turned and blinked. "I beg your pardon."
"Lord Oakley. He won't forget to find us rooms. I've known him for years. The only thing that is making this bearable is that he must be dying inside over all this."
"You don't like him?"
"On the contrary. I've long considered him a friend. It's why I enjoy his misery so much. — Julia Quinn

Please,' Neil shook the stinging fluid out of his eyes. Don't beg. You'll appear weak DO NOT BEG. 'Please, I'm begging you. Don't take my bike. It's all I have left and I ... I ...' he looked behind him in the direction of the city, 'I can't go back. — Teresa Schulz

Life gets hard and we run out of options, or maybe we just get curious about faith again, or we simply can't find any other way to fix our problems. So we check ourselves in to Jesus' rehab center, frantically and desperately knocking on the door of Dr. Jesus in the middle of the night. We don't feel good enough. We don't feel adequate. We don't feel that God has any reason to pay attention to us. But suddenly we've reached the end of our options, so we pray, we plead, we cry, and we beg for him to pay attention to us and to help us in our crisis. And what do we find at the door of Dr. Jesus? We find grace. Even — Johnnie Moore

If you want to destroy a man, you don't take his life. You let him live. Then you take his peace of mind, his possessions, his loved ones... everything he owns. Then he will beg you to kill him. — Elizabeth Ellen Carter

If your opponent cannot do anything active, then don't rush the position; instead you should let him sit there, suffer, and beg you for a draw — Jeremy Silman

I grip Colin harder, kissing him longer, unwilling to let him go. This is what I want; this is what I've wanted since his damn phone interrupted us this morning, his mouth, his body claiming mine. I'm on fire, every muscle in my body attuned to his, my groin clenching with delicious need. When the voices grow louder his hold loosens.
"Don't stop, please," I beg into his mouth. Diving into me once more his tongue slays me, erases every thought of the outside world until the passion has left us breathless and we have to break away if only to live. His forehead presses to mine as we gasp together, the cold air barely cooling the heat raging between us.
-Midnight, A McKenna Chronicle — Elizabeth Miller

The Eleven king looked sternly upon Thorin, when he was brought before him, and asked him many questions. But Thorin would only say that he was starving.
"Why did you and your folk three times try to attack my people at their merrymaking?" asked the king.
"We did not attack them," answered Thorin, "we came to beg because we were starving."
"Where are your friends now, and what are they doing?"
"I don't know, but I expect that they're all starving in the forest."
"What were you doing in the forest?"
"Looking for food and drink, because we were starving."
"And what brought you into the forest at all?" asked the king angrily.
At that Thorin shut his mouth and would not say another word. — J.R.R. Tolkien

Breaking the kiss when she had reached the point where she had begun to hope he would never stop, he surged over her and she felt his need digging into her belly as he burrowed his face against her neck. "Don't torture me anymore. I am repentant. I swear."
She opened her eyes to look at him as he lifted his head.
His features were drawn and harsh with painful need. "I have never been more miserable in my life, Mellie, and the only way you could possibly make me more miserable is to leave where I can not even see you."
Lifting a hand, she stroked his hard cheek. He turned his face into her palm, kissing it. "Don't make beg, Mellie."
"Why?"
A pained look flickered across his features. "Because I will, and my ego might never recover. — Julia Keaton

How long are you staying?"
This time she did laugh. "Always gracious.A few days," she told him. "No more than a week.No,please." She held up her hand, palm up. "Don't beg me to extend my visit; I simply can't stay any longer." She knew he would scowl and swear and open his house to her for as long as she needed.
He finished off the last of his eggs. "Okay, you can drive into town for supplies while you're here."
"Always happy to be of service," Shelby muttered. "How do you manage to get every major newspaper in the country delivered out here?"
"I pay for it," he said simply. "They think I'm odd."
"You are odd. — Nora Roberts

You don't like people seeing you." My eyes met him then. "I beg your pardon?" His eyes roamed my fresh face. "You can't hide behind makeup. You can try, but you won't succeed. Not with me." He paused then said, "I see you. — Belle Aurora

Please don't take him away from this world. Please don't let him die here in my arms, not after everything we've been through together, not after You've taken so many others. Please, I beg You, let him live. I am willing to sacrifice anything to make this happen- I'm willing to do anything You ask. Maybe you'll laugh at me for such a naive promise, but I mean it in earnest, and I don't care if it makes no sense or seems impossible. Let him live. Please. I can't bear this a second time.
Tell me there is still good in this world. Tell me there is still hope for all of us. — Marie Lu

If you've been exiled, why don't you send me word of yourself? People do send word. Have you stopped loving me? No, for some reason I don't believe that. It means you were exiled and died ... Release me, then, I beg you, give me freedom to live, finally, to breathe the air! ... ' Margarita Nikolaevna answered for him herself: 'You are free ... am I holding you?' Then she objected to him: 'No, what kind of answer is that? No, go from my memory, then I'll be free ... — Mikhail Bulgakov

I tug his head down to mine. "I need you, Reed. Don't make me beg."
And just like that, he gives in. One hand comes up to tangle in my hair while the other pulls me roughly against him. "You don't ever have to ask again. I'll give you anything you want. — Erin Watt

Dorian strokes my exposed back with the tips of his fingers, sending shockwaves up and down my spine. I gasp from the contact, resisting the urge to beg him for more. He brings his face down to my neck, letting his lips brush my earlobe. "Gabriella, I would love to bend you over this desk right now and pull your dress up past your thighs and over your ass," he murmurs, sex dripping from his soft lips.
"That sounds good to me," I breathe, turning my head a fraction. "What's stopping you?" Never in my life have I been this bold and eager with a man but Dorian has awakened the sleeping sex giant within me. If my days are numbered, I want to at least die happy.
"Oh, I would do it. But I know Aurora will come looking for me and I don't want to be disturbed when I ... ruin you." Ruin me? It sounds so threatening and violent.
I love it. — S.L. Jennings

Ninety-nine percent talent ... ninety-nine percent discipline ... ninety-nine percent work. He must never be satisfied with what he does. It is never as good as it can be done. Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Don't bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself. An artist is a creature driven by demons. He doesn't know why they choose him and he's usually too busy to wonder why. He is completely amoral in that he will rob, borrow, beg, or steal from anybody and everybody to get the work done. — William Faulkner

One of the reasons I love Murder is that victims are, as a general rule, dead ... I don't make a habit of sharing this, in case people take me fore a sicko or- worse-a wimp, but give me a dead child, any day, over a child sobbing his heart out while you make him tell you what the bad man did next. Dead victims don't show up outside HQ to beg for answers, you never have to nudge them into reliving every hideous moment, and you never have to worry, and you never have to worry about what it'll do to their lives if you fuck up. They stay put in the morgue, light-years beyond anything I can do right or wrong, and leave me free to focus on the people who sent them there. — Tana French

system. I mustn't look to individuals. It's the system. I mustn't go into court and say, 'My Lord, I beg to know this from you - is this right or wrong? Have you the face to tell me I have received justice and therefore am dismissed?' My Lord knows nothing of it. He sits there to administer the system. I mustn't go to Mr. Tulkinghorn, the solicitor in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and say to him when he makes me furious by being so cool and satisfied - as they all do, for I know they gain by it while I lose, don't I? - I mustn't say to him, 'I will have something out of some one for my ruin, by fair means or foul!' HE is not responsible. It's the system. But, if I do no violence to any of them, here - I may! I don't know what may happen if I am carried beyond myself at last! I will accuse the individual workers of that system against me, face to face, before the great eternal bar! — Charles Dickens

Give me," she said.
"Don't you mean please give me?"
"You want me to beg?"
That smile spread slightly. "Nah. I just heard you beg plenty."
"I did not beg." But she had. She so had. Still grinning, still naked, he pulled her against him and pressed his mouth to her shoulder. "My panties, Mark. — Jill Shalvis

We don't have to beg or bribe God to give us strength or hope or patience. We need only turn to Him, admit that we can't do this on our own, and understand that bravely bearing up under long-term illness is one of the most human, and one of the most godly, things we can ever do. One of the things that constantly reassures me that God is real, and not just an idea that religious leaders made up, is the fact that people who pray for strength, hope and courage so often find resources of strength, hope and courage that they did not have before they prayed. — Harold S. Kushner

He was not quite sure how to phrase it, so he finally went with,
haltingly, "I don't enjoy being at the center of attention."
Her head tilted to the side, she regarded him for a long moment
before saying, "No. You don't." And then: "You were always a
tree."
"I beg your pardon?"
Her eyes grew sentimental. "When we performed our awful
pantomimes as children. You were always a tree."
"I never had to say anything."
"And you always got to stand at the back."
He felt himself smile, lopsided and true. "I rather liked being a
tree."
"You were a very good tree." She smiled then, too - a radiant,
wondrous thing. "The world needs more trees. — Julia Quinn

Don't be so anxious about it,' she laughed. 'I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do; I never got the trick of it.' She looked down at him, shy and fatigued. 'So here we are. I told you years ago that I had the makings of Cinderella.'
He took her hand; she drew it back instinctively and then replaced it in his. 'Beg your pardon. Not even used to being touched. But I'm not afraid of you, if you stay quiet and don't move suddenly. — F Scott Fitzgerald

He doesn't move.

Please, I beg him inwardly.

Please go up to bed.

It's hard enough to look at his face each day and not feel heartbreak. I can't be close to him right now. I'm afraid I'll give in and kiss him again. The way his hard body had aligned so perfectly with mine is burned in my consciousness. I'll be trying not to remember that for weeks.

I wait, and I ache.

Finally the door clicks open. I hear him exit the car. When the door slams shut, I feel it like a sledgehammer to the heart.

Don't look, I coach myself.

But my self-control isn't infinite. His fair hair glints under the streetlight as his long legs eat up the walkway in just a few paces. Seeing him walk away from me splinters something inside me. — Sarina Bowen

Little girl," Cain begins, moving in close and speaking deliberately. "I know exactly what I want, but as long as you insist on continuing this charade, I will not claim you as mine again until you beg to hear those words from me." I stare at him, stunned at how the same cocksure attitude that floods my mind with contempt floods my body with excitement as he leans back, a satisfied smirk on his face.
"I don't beg," I hiss.
"Not yet," is all he says. — Lilly Black

Don't you want to know my name?" he asked, grabbing the ketchup bottle without taking his eyes off of me.
"Sure. What's your name?"
"You don't sound genuinely interested."
"I'm not begging if that's what you're waiting for."
Throwing his head back, he let out a deep rolling laugh before focusing his dark gaze on me again. "I wouldn't mind seeing you beg," he said then added when I frowned, "Cooper."
"Anyone ever call you Coop the Poop or Poopy Coopy?" I asked, messing with him because his iron stare made me nervous.
"No," he muttered.
"Not to your face anyway."
A smile lifted the corner of his mouth and his gaze softened. "No, not to my face."
"I guess there are benefits to being scary. — Bijou Hunter