Not Wearing Panties Quotes & Sayings

Are you still wearing those flimsy white panties?"

"Yes," Story breathed.

"Good. I need you to reach inside and pet your clit for me. Gently, like I do it. — Tessa Bailey

Cut the crap and tell me what color panties you're wearing. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

What's so funny?" "Your panties have a bow," he said. I looked down. I was wearing a short tank top -not mine- and my blue panties with a narrow white strip of lace at the top and a tiny white bow. Would it have killed me to check what I was wearing before I pulled the blanket down? "What's wrong with bows?" "Nothing." He was grinning now. "I expected barbed wire. Or one of those steel chains." Wiseass. "I'm secure enough in myself to wear panties with bows on them. Besides, they are comfy and soft." "I bet. — Ilona Andrews

Looks to me like you need help. Do you know that you're wearing Thursday panties and today's Monday? — Eileen Cook

Why were you in a vehicle with Kate, alone? What were you wearing? What was she wearing? How long were you there? Did you do something or did you talk? What was the nature of your discussion? Could this trip have been avoided?"
I rubbed my face. "So basically you're scared that His Lordship might get his panties in a bunch?"
"That's one way to put it. — Ilona Andrews

There was the sink incident - which I may have overreacted to because it reminded me of a memory I had of my parents - the walking in while I was having a shower to ask me where the television remote was incident, the eating his lunch in the kitchen without a shirt on incident- he said he 'accidently' spilled coffee down it and had to put it in the washer/dryer- and there were the many, many 'looking at me for no reason' incidents. I swear to God he was wearing on my panties — Samantha Young

It's your panties; they're pulling me in," he grinned. Oh no he didn't. "How can they be? I'm not wearing any. — Dawn Doyle

Early the next morning, I drove him to the airport, kissed him good-bye, told him I wasn't wearing any panties, and then kissed him once more while he tried to push me back into the car to see if I was bluffing. I was not. Kissing him a final time, I told him I loved him and I'd see him in two weeks. No one ever tells you to remember these moments. To photograph them in your mind, develop them into memories, to have them easily accessible and on instant recall when you'd need them later. To try and replay and re-create the last time you see someone. — Alice Clayton

Sometimes I didn't even feel like getting out of bed. I took to wearing my days-of-the-week panties out of order. It could be Monday and I'd have on underwear saying Thursday. I just didn't care. — Sue Monk Kidd

You are wearing no panties with another male in the room?Raphael ran his hand down Elena's spine and over her lower curves, searching for lines and finding nothing but firm feminine flesh.You truly aren't
Elena's shoulders shook, deep creases in her cheeks. Oh, my God, you're scandalized! Eyes tearing up in the effort to fight her laughter, she pressed her hands to his chest and stared down at the floor.Should I tell you I did find a way to wear a knife? In a thigh sheath.
Of course you did. What do panties matter so long as you have your steel. — Nalini Singh

Yeah, ignore me." Aaro pawed through the bags until he found one with stenciled hearts on it. "By the way, you never did tell me your size. Hope nothing binds or pinches your tender pink places, babe."
He let the bag fly. It landed on Lily's lap. She shrank back as if it were a venomous snake. Fuck-me-please panties spilled out. A tangle of satin, lace and silk. Red, black, peach, flesh-tone.
Bruno growled expletives in a Calabrese dialect as he shoved underwear into the bag. It was his standard tension reliever. None of the people he insulted knew he was commenting on their grandmother's predilection for sex with sheep.
"I am not wearing that slutty, disgusting stuff." Lily's voice was haughty. "Certainly not after you're pawed it. Dog."
"Arf, arf." Aaro's tone was more cheerful than it had been so far any time this morning. "I love it when she spits bile. — Shannon McKenna

Maybe I can braid your hair, and we can talk about our life goals." Sarah wrinkles her nose. "Or maybe you can check to see whether I'm wearing panties or not." "So hair braiding is out?" "Uh, yeah, unless it's a euphemism for taking your clothes off. — Helena Hunting

I also feel fairly confident that the original Texaco Salvatore was a good family man, with perhaps a propensity for wearing his wife's panties and betting his kids' college money at the track, but otherwise a solid dude. — Rachel Cohn

His hands, which had been on her hips, suddenly grasped the slim strap of her panties and snapped the material apart.
"You owe me another pair," she gasped.
"Stop wearing them and it won't be a problem. — Savannah Stuart

Anything she might have said died in her throat at the sight of him. His black hair was disheveled, his morning stubble hypnotic, and the rakish way his shirt was undone at the throat and his tie hung in abandoned disarray beneath the collar, was just plain panty-melting.

I'm not wearing any panties. — Christina Phillips

The open zipper at the bottom revealed two important details: her ass was as luscious as he had imagined, and she wasn't wearing any panties. His palms started to sweat. How was he supposed to fasten her dress when all he wanted to do was tear it off? — Stacey O'Neale

Hi, I'm Britney. I'm not wearing any socks...and I have the panties to match...What's your name? — Rachel Real

And this is the most gorgeous ass in the world," he growled. "I almost started collecting panties for you, but somehow that just struck me as obsessive, don't you think?"
She shook her head.
"Good, then you won't be surprised when I pull out the few pairs I collected for you, no more than a few dozen, and ask you to wear them for me. Silk and satin and lace so delicate it's no more than a whisper against your flesh. I'll come just thinking of you wearing those panties beneath those mission pants you wear. They have ribbons too. And little bows. And some don't have a crotch. I could slip right inside you, and not have to worry about tearing them from you first. — Lora Leigh

I went to bed wearing my oldest, most faded flannel shirt, the bra that had looked all right in the catalog but was obviously an escapee from a downmarket nursing home when it arrived, white cotton panties that had had pansies on them about seven hundred washings ago and were now a kind of mottled gray, and the jeans I usually wore for housecleaning or raking Yolande's garden because they were too shabby for work even if I never came out of the bakery. Food inspector arrest-on-sight jeans. Oh, and fuzzy green plaid socks. It was a cool night for summer. Relatively. I lay down on top of the bedspread. And slept through till the alarm at three-forty-five. He hadn't come. T — Robin McKinley

I loved lingerie. I loved the feel of satin and silk on my skin. I loved the juxtaposition of wearing a pair of two-hundred-dollar lace panties under blue jeans, like the pair I was wearing at the moment. Lingerie was a personal statement that you didn't have to declare to the world. You could be as demure or as naughty as you wanted to be, and no one ever had to know unless you showed them ... or were injured in a serious car accident. — Molly Harper

What are you doing?" I squeak. Big, warm hands slide under the hem of my dress, slowly dragging the satin material upward. "What do you mean?" he asks innocently. Surprise makes my pulse race. "Where's my kiss?" Ignoring me, he pushes my dress all the way up to my waist, then groans so loudly that I shoot a wary glance behind me. But everyone on the lawn is completely out of sight, which means Blake and I are out of sight to them. Which means nobody but Blake can see that I'm not wearing anything under my dress. "No panties?" he croaks. "Seriously? We were walking down that aisle together and you weren't wearing panties? Are you trying to kill me? — Sarina Bowen

I stood up to walk the long way back home in my wrinkled dress, legs shaking and throat burning with contained tears. As the torn lace of the white skirt I was wearing grazed my thighs, I knew for certain two things: I had no panties on, and there was a hollow space where my soul used to be. The soft and warm summer breeze punched me repeatedly, swaying my frail body around. — Tammy Faith

Because I could tell with that one simple movement that you were really insecure. And I realized - since you obviously had no idea how fucking beautiful you were - that I just might actually have a chance with you. And so I smiled. Because I was hoping if I played my cards right - I might get to find out exactly what kind of panties you were wearing under those jeans. — Colleen Hoover

I'm Larry David. I happen to enjoy wearing women's panties. — Larry David

Here's the deal: no touching, no hand-holding, no flirting, no sexy talk, no dancing, and absolutely no kissy face."

"You didn't mention no sex, did you? I might have you on a technicality."


"You and me alone, eating, talking, maybe even having a good time. Yeah, it might be a date."


"I've seen what's in your pantry, and I respect my arteries too much to indulge."

"That's the thing about snakes - even if they're harmless, they look like such badasses it doesn't really matter."

"You're lying. You're really wearing a pair of granny panties. — Wendy Byrne

Don't want you wearing shit that you wore for Gary," Horse replied, draping an arm around my neck, pulling me into his body. He leaned over and spoke directly in my ear, voice husky. "I don't give a damn if you never wear panties again, but I know women are weird about that. Here's the compromise. I'm gonna buy you new shit, but only shit I like. You're gonna wear it until I pull it off to fuck you. Everyone wins. — Joanna Wylde

I want to taste you all the time, Mia. I want the flavor of you on my tongue every fucking minute of the day. And you know it. You shouldn't tease me by telling me you're not wearing panties when I can't have my mouth on you. — Melanie Harlow

What color are your panties?"
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"Why?"
"Baby, if I'm going to take you into a room full of men wearing that dress, I'm damn well going to be the only one who knows the color of your panties. — Tessa Bailey

I wasn't surprised to find myself in the back of Mr. Klein's store, wearing only my undershirt and panties, surrounded by sable. — Amy Bloom

Hey! Give that back!" Panic started to set in. Ignoring the fact that I was only in my panties, I jumped up out of bed and grabbed at the sweatshirt, trying to pull it back to me. I couldn't lose it, I just couldn't.
But then his jaw dropped. "You're not wearing pants!" He slapped his hand over his eyes and let me pull the shirt out of his grip. "Damn it, put some clothes on."
That gave me pause, and might have made me laugh if I wasn't so freaked out. The demon from hell was unnerved by me being half-dressed? — Erin McCarthy

Lou, honey, I'll buy you a new pair of shoes if you'll stop flashing your panties at everyone sitting across the room from us. You are wearing panties, right?
I glance up and across at Stefan. His words register a moment later and my head swivels toward the other side of the room. There are a number of people staring at me. One of them is Detective Terry Shay. Or I think it is. He's not looking directly at me. He's looking up my skirt — Ronda Thompson

She'd stutter all the reasons why she shouldn't, shaking her head adamantly. But her body..her body would grow hot with excitement. She'd get wet at the thrill of it. So fucking wet that i'd smell her, telling me she's not even wearing panties to smother her spicy scent.
When my hand touched hers, still clutched to her chest, she'd flinch but she wouldn't pull away. She'd let me guide it between her swollen breasts and down to her flat belly, brushing the bit of exposed skin where the hem of her shirt rides up. Then I'd let her fingers play with the jewel in her navel, manipulating each digit as if that diamond-studded barbell was her clit. Demonstrating how I would stroke it for her. — S.L. Jennings