Headboard Quotes & Sayings

Grab hold of the headboard with your one hand, for stability," I tell her. She does but her pussy is still about an inch too high. I think she's afraid she's going to break my face or something, but if anything is breaking off it's my dick because it is so goddamned hard right now a stiff wind could shatter it. "Lower baby. Sit on me." "Won't I suffocate you?" she worries but lowers until that juicy pussy is resting right on top of my mouth. "Oh, baby, if only. — Jessica Clare

Moved. Her arms lifting, she grabbed onto the headboard. "That's my good girl," he muttered against her mouth. "Promise to hold on." "I promise," she whispered and he kissed her. — Kristen Ashley

Children. There was no particular gurney for children and few things made Benke feel as uncomfortable as seeing the empty spaces left over on the trolley when he was transporting the body of a child; the little figure under the white cover, pushed up against the headboard. The lower half empty, the sheet smooth. That flat sheet was death itself. — John Ajvide Lindqvist

How do you know it'll be pleasurable?" He got on the bed and lay down.
Breath a whisper, she came closer and tied one wrist to the headboard. The cat growled but didn't try to make him wrench free.
"Because just looking at you gives me the most extreme pleasure I've ever felt."
"Christ, baby, tie me up before you start talking like that. — Nalini Singh

Kat," Hale groaned, then fell back onto the pillows.
"Funny, I didn't hear a doorbell."
"I let myself in; hope that's okay."
Hale smiled. "Or the alarm."
She stepped inside, tossed a pocket-size bag of tools onto the bed.
"You're due for an upgrade."
Hale propped himself against the antique headboard and squinted up at her.
"She returns." He crossed his arms across his bare chest. "You know, I could be naked in here. — Ally Carter

I sank down onto the bed against the headboard and leaned back. I crossed my legs underneath me. "Then we'll talk." I said with a smile. Rush sat down onto the bed and leaned back against the wall. A deep chuckle came from his chest and I watched as a real smile broke out on his face. "I can't believe I just begged a female to sit and talk to me." In all honesty, I couldn't either. — Abbi Glines

Well, I appreciate your help, Hunter. But let's get some things straight right now. I don't party, I don't use illicit drugs, and I won't be a notch in anyone's headboard."
He choked and sputtered before smiling widely. "Wow. You've been reading the daily rumor mill, haven't you? You've already decided what kind of guy I am. — Lacey Weatherford

Detective Inspector Carver took a picture from the breast pocket of his suit. He handed it to me. 'This is what you did, Michael. Take a good look. See if it jogs your memory.'
I gawped at the mutilated corpse of a naked young girl lying on a blood-soaked double bed. Her hands were bound to the brass headboard with duct tape. Blood covered her upper body, and her long blonde hair was streaked a murderous shade of red. One eye stared at the ceiling as if searching for salvation, the other, a bloody unrecognisable pulp, bore no relation to its sightless counterpart.
'Carla Marie Coombs. Twenty-one years of age. Do you recognise her, Michael? — Mark Tilbury

The soul often hangs in a balance of some sort. Tonight do I lie down in the high fields with Dirk Tanner or not? At the fair, do I buy ribbons or wine? For the new ferry's headboard, do I use camphor or pearwood? Small things. A kiss, a ribbon, a grain that coaxes the knife this way or that. They are not, Kit Meinem of Atyar. Our souls wait for our answer because any answer changes us. This is why I wait to decide what I feel about your bridge. I'm waiting until I know how I will be changed."
"You never know how things will change you," Kit said.
"If you don't, you have not waited to find out. — Kij Johnson

I leaned back against the headboard and closed my eyes, feeling the inferno flair between us once more. It flickered and pulsed, but my blood was boiling on the inside and Ember was the fire that ignited it. — Julie Kagawa

I want to be the only guy who fucks you against windows, and also the first person you see in the morning - from where you lie, having stolen my pillow. I'd also like to be the person who gets you lime Popsicles when you've had bad sushi. We only have a few months left where it's potentially complicated." With my mouth on hers, and my hands on her face, I think she finally started to understand. "Promise me you'll take me to bed when we get back," she said. "I promise." "Your bed." "Fuck yes, my bed. My bed is huge, with a headboard I can tie you to and spank you silly for being so ridiculous. — Christina Lauren

Bedsprings creaking, headboard banging, heavy breathing in triplicate (the bedroom sounds like a convention of asthmatic dirty phone callers have gathered there) — Gillibran Brown

Lovemaking was fine and good, and someday, when a man came along with whom I connected enough for that to happen, fine. For now? I craved sheet-mangling, shoulder-clawing, headboard-pounding fucking. — Lauren Gallagher

I came back into the room and excitedly said, "They love their hair." "Precisely!" she shouted. "Look on the top bunk." Perilously positioned on the thin wooden headboard of the bed, a bottle of STA-WET gel. "Kevin doesn't just wake up with that spiky bedhead look, Pudge. He works for it. He loves that hair. They leave their hair products here, Pudge, because they have duplicates at home. All those boys do. And you know why?" "Because they're compensating for their tiny little penises?" I asked. "Ha ha. No. That's why they're macho assholes. They love their hair because they aren't smart enough to love something more interesting. So we hit them where it hurts: the scalp. — John Green

The sound of the headboard, that's motivation. — Kevin Hart

He was losing her incrementally. It might be a few stray hairs listless on the pillow, or the crescents of bitten fingernails tossed behind the headboard, or a dark shape dissolving in soap. As a net is no more than holes tied together, they were bonded by what was no longer there. (ARC p. 63) — Anthony Marra

My mom was a manic depressive schizophrenic who, after a year in prison, went home and shot herself. My sister, Kirsten, an amazing poet, who was raised by this woman, and was dating a guy who broke up with her for the fourth time in three weeks. And one day, she came to his house, got a gun, and blew her brains out all over his headboard. I just went through a divorce, five years in court and cost me $2 million dollars. If anyone, by law, should be forced to take antidepressants it's me ... But instead, I choose to be an antidepressant. And you can take me with alcohol. — Christopher Titus

I took her into bed with me and propped myself up with pillows against the headboard to let her nurse. As she nursed and the milk came, she began a little low contented sort of singing. I would feel milk and love flowing from me to her as once it had flowed to me. It emptied me. As the baby fed, I seemed slowly to grow empty of myself, as if in the presence of that long flow of love even grief could not stand. — Wendell Berry

One night of sin with Jack. No commitment. No promises. Just hot, sweaty, headboard-banging sex.
Jeana E. Mann. Intoxicated (Kindle Locations 828-829). — Jeana E. Mann

You're my best friend and I love you. I'm not ashamed to admit that I love a guy. I love you, Holder. Daniel Weasley loves Dean Holder. Always and forever."
"Daniel, go make out with your girlfriend," he says, waving me off.
I shake my head. "Not until you tell me you love me, too."
His head falls back against Sky's headboard. "I fucking love you, now GO AWAY!"
I grin. "I love you more. — Colleen Hoover

I brought soup just in case you changed your mind. Are the pains easing up at all?" He manfully kept the hopeful note out of his tone.
"All the activity must have set them off. They seem to be getting farther apart, and they're shorter in duration. From all the research I've done, that means false labor."
He felt like a man given a reprieve right before a death sentence, but he kept his features expressionless. He wanted her to count on him, and she couldn't do that if she knew he was petrified of delivering a baby.
"Will you try to eat something?" He walked farther into the room and set the tray on the end table. "It might help."
She flashed him a
smile that told him he didn't know what he was talking about, but she picked up the bowl of soup and spoon, sank down in the middle of the bed, tailor fashion, her back against the headboard, and regarded him steadily. — Christine Feehan

He tip-toed past the double bed that had been placed in a corner - wrought-iron headboard, embroidered pillows, amulets against the evil-eye and a satiny, cobalt-blue bedspread. Blue was Iskender's favourite colour. It was the colour for boys, which meant the sky was a boy. So were the rivers and lakes. And the oceans, though he had yet to see one. — Elif Shafak

Excellent. We keep your furniture. Whose bed?"
"Yours."
"Why mine?"
"It's bigger, for one."
"And for another?"
"Mine doesn't have the sort of headboard you can tie someone to. I've always sort of wanted to do that."
"Bend over. Now. Take off your pants and bend over. I'll be done in five minutes. No one will ever know. — Amy Lane

I had spent many years living with a plain piece of canvas just right on my face as a headboard for my bed. As the years passed by, I watched it slowly transforming into a work of art which still lives above my head. And that my friend, is truly living art. — Shawn Lukas

You're right - piercings are good." Prophet was the one who was high now. Tom managed to wrest back control by bucking at an angle that made Prophet stiffen and give a near whimper. "Yeah, Tommy, like that." One of his hands was on Prophet's shoulder as he rocked his hips back and forth, the other on Prophet's leaking cock. Prophet was matching him stroke for stroke, his head against the headboard, which in turn slammed the wall, the bed threatening to break apart. Tom's entire body was reduced to a heartbeat. "Tommy!" He didn't know why he hadn't wanted Prophet to call him that. Now, he didn't want Prophet to call him anything else. Tom sped up, his breath coming in halting gasps. — S.E. Jakes

God, Eva. Your cunt loves my cock." Reaching for the headboard, Gideon stretched over me, my legs trapped between us. Fully exposed and tilted back for his pleasure, I was helpless to do more than watch as he straightened his hips and sank the last few inches of his penis into me. The sound that left me was a harsh wail, the pleasure so intense it hurt. Distantly, I heard Gideon curse, felt his powerful body shudder. "You good?" he bit out, his teeth grinding. I tried to catch my breath, my lungs expanding as much as they were able. "Eva." He growled my name. "Are. You. Good?" Unable to speak, I reached for his hips, my fingers catching in his boxer briefs. I had a moment to think how hot that was, that he hadn't bothered to undress either one of — Sylvia Day

I scrambled backward on the bed, moving toward the headboard.
"Where you going, sweet Caroline?" he asked, crawling across the bed to get to me.
"I wanted to hold on for this," I quipped, arching an eyebrow and my back as I grabbed on to the iron headboard.
"That's my girl. — Alice Clayton

Mallory!" Catcher's voice boomed down the stairs.
Mallory fixed her mouth into a tight line and walked me into the kitchen. "Ignore it," she advised. "Much like the bubonic plague, it'll go away if you give it enough time."
"Mallory! You weren't finished! Get back in here!"
I glanced up the stairway. "You didn't leave him handcuffed to the bed or something, did you?"
"Jesus, no." I incrementally relaxed, until she continued. "My headboard's a single piece of wood. There's nothing to handcuff him to. — Chloe Neill

Anyway, that guy. This is all his damned fault. It's his fault I'm bent over the edge of the bed with my red satin panties hanging from my one ankle. It's his fault I've got a little hot, gooey cum dripping from my chin. It's his fault my heart is still pounding from my first non-DIY orgasm. My first thundering, shuddering orgasm that I didn't tease out with my wet, dripping fingers, the corner of the dryer or 'Jumbo', the 7-inch ribbed black dildo I keep as my shameful little secret, tucked in the gap between my mattress and the headboard.

...

Fuck you, Michael Cera. Fuck you hard.

Sincerely,

Jill Travers — Aya Fukunishi

I can remember when safe sex meant a padded headboard. — Bob Monkhouse

Right." Leah laughed as she sat back against the headboard. "Because in your current condition, I'm sure you would rock my world."
Danny reached for his toast. "Believe me, if given the opportunity to rock your world, there isn't a hangover in existence that would prevent me from getting the job done thoroughly, — Priscilla Glenn

Maybe that's what Hell is, in the end. All of your wrongful shit played out there in front of you while you're being pumped from behind by someone you've hurt. That you've screwed over in life. Or worse, worse still...some person who doesn't really love you anymore. No one to ever look at again, make contact with. Just you being fucked as your life splashes out across this big headboard in the Devil's bedroom. Maybe. Even if that's not it, even if Hell is all fire and sulfur and that sort of thing, it couldn't be much worse than that. — Neil LaBute

Is a blowjob acceptable payment for a tire change or does the headboard need to rock? — Kristen Ashley

Reyes, how do you not just fly around all the time, checking shit out?"
He laid his head against the headboard and laughed. "I do sometimes, but my life is on this plane." He brushed his fingertips over my palm again, studying me. "I love every inch of you."
My heart melted, and I hoped it hadn't dematerialized and rematerialized somewhere else. That couldn't be good. I turned in to him. "I love all your inches, too. — Darynda Jones

And the stories will change and the canoe will become a headboard and the family will be mermaids and the rooms will be mansions. And no one will remember us, who we were or what happened here. — Bill Clegg

FROM A WILD NIGHT'S BRIDE by Victoria Vane:
His gaze glued to the bed, Ned made a mechanical backward retreat to the center of the room where he had a clearer prospect of its crowning glory. His vision rose to the top of the headboard, to the heraldic shield seated betwixt the carved figures of a lion and a unicorn. His gaze slid with dread to the engraved scroll beneath. Dieu Et Mon Driot. God and my right, the motto of the king. His chest seized. The room began to spin. He looked to Phoebe, aware that the blood was draining from his face, and that his voice emerged as a strangled sound. "May the same God save me ... for I'm going to be hung, drawn, and quartered for spending last night rutting in the King of England's bed!" coming April 27, 2012 from Breathless Press — Emery Lee

If I release you, you won't scream? I'd rather not continue the conversation like this."
She shook her head, and he freed her. She scrambled away from him, feeling the grooves of the headboard bite into her back when she slammed into it.
He sat back on her bed, his hands on his jean-clad thighs. The hair at his neck curled from dampness. "You don't have to be afraid of me."
She almost laughed. "A stranger breaks in, and I'm supposed to be cool with that?"
"Amy, we're not strangers. — Jaime Rush

His dark eyes were hot.

"Drink the coffee," he growled.

Coffee. Right. She had to hold the cup with both hands, otherwise she'd spill the hot coffee all over herself and all over this beautiful bed. She tipped her head back against the headboard and sipped.

God, it was delicious. Sharp, yet with a smooth smoky taste. Some outrageously expensive blend, no doubt. She took another sip. Perfect.

His hand continued stroking her breast, movements lazy. "Good?" he asked.

"Wonderful."

"Give me a taste," he said suddenly, stretching over to cover her mouth with is. Oh lord, she could simply sink into his kisses. This one was long, languid, the strokes of his hand on her breast echoed by his tongue in her mouth. He lifted his head for a second, then moved in more closely, tongue deeper in her mouth. He lifted his head again and smiled down at her. "It is delicious. — Lisa Marie Rice