Rubbing It In Quotes & Sayings

He stopped at an intersection, panting, rubbing at the twinge in his hamstrings, looking around, though he knew no cars were coming in either direction.
Dropping forward at the waist Martin admitted that he was fucking himself up. Dr Leonowsky told him: hurting yourself is an articulation of self-disgust. It helps no one, prevents nothing. This wasn't a glorious loss of control, he was fooling himself, it was self-harm. — Denise Mina

It's about reaching that moment of pure ecstasy when a drawing just happens. Where every move you make with your hand and every thought you have in your head grows in front of you without any mistakes; no rubbing out, starting again and getting frustrated. It's like being in a trance - it's a fluid - and you almost don't remember doing the picture. Drawing is an escape from all the unnecessary things in life that get in the way of being free. — Jamie Hewlett

A book, he thinks at one point, rubbing his eyes, tired from so much focused reading. It's a world all on its own, too. He looks at the cover again. A satyr playing pan pipes, far more innocent-looking than when it got up to in the story. A world made of words, Seth thinks, where you live for a while.
"And then it's over," he says. — Patrick Ness

Nothing but the natural ignorance of the public, countenanced by the inoculated erroneousness of the ordinary general medical practitioners, makes such a barbarism as vaccination possible ... Recent developments have shown that an inoculation made in the usual general practitioner's light-hearted way, without previous highly skilled examination of the state of the patient's blood, is just as likely to be a simple manslaughter as a cure or preventive. But vaccination is nothing short of attempted murder. A skilled bacteriologist would just as soon think of cutting his child's arm and rubbing the contents of the dustpan into the wound, as vaccinating it in the same. — George Bernard Shaw

I think ... " She lifts her head from his shoulder. "I think that you have it in you to be a fine young man. Exceptional even. I have always thought that. Mothers are supposed to, aren't they? I don't think you're there yet. Not yet. I think you've got some way to go. That's all."
"I see."
"You mustn't take this badly, but sometimes ... " She takes his hands in hers, rubbing the palm of it with her thumb. "Sometimes I worry that you're not very nice anymore."
They sit there for a while until eventually he says, "There's nothing I can say to that."
"There's nothing that you have to say."
"Are you angry with me?"
"A little. But then I'm angry with pretty much everyone these days. Everyone who isn't sick. — David Nicholls

Nicole's door opened, and she stomped down the hall. "I have something to say," she said, giving him the Slitty Eyes of Death. "You're totally unfair, and if I run away, you shouldn't be surprised." "Don't make me put a computer chip in your ear," Liam answered. "It's not funny! I hate you." "Well, I love you, even if you did ruin my life by turning into a teenager," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Did you study for your test?" "Yes." "Good." He looked at his daughter - so much like Emma, way too pretty. Why weren't there convent schools anymore? Or chastity belts? "Want some supper? I saved your plate." She rolled her eyes with all the melodrama a teenager could muster. "Fine. I may as well become a fat pig since I can't ever go on a date." "That's my girl," he said and, grinning, got up to heat up her dinner. — Kristan Higgins

The grotesque prudishness and archness with which garlic is treated in [England] has led to the superstition that rubbing the bowl with it before putting the salad in gives sufficient flavor. It rather depends whether you are going to eat the bowl or the salad. — Elizabeth David

Eric Seven does not believe in love at first sight.
He corrects himself.
Even in that moment, the moment that it happens, he fees his journalist's brain make a correction, rubbing out a long-held belief, writing a new one in its place.
He did not believe in love at first sight. He thinks he might do so now. — Marcus Sedgwick

Last bedroom on the right," Nick said with a smirk. "Might want to knock first."
Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Dude, you are so not one to talk right now."
Straight-faced, Nick popped Jeremy in the arm with a fist.
"Dude," Jeremy said, rubbing his arm. "Maybe you aren't doing it right 'cause sex is supposed to chill your ass out."
Easy managed a smile. "I really like your brother, Rix," Easy said, looking at Nick. — Laura Kaye

Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good;
A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly;
A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud;
A brittle that's broken presently;
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour.
And as goods lost are seld or never found,
As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh,
As flowers dead lie withered on the ground,
As broken glass no cement can redress;
So beauty blemished once, for ever lost,
In spite of physic, painting, pain and cost. — William Shakespeare

He ducked down under the wooden slats used to separate the stalls in the barn and crawled into the adjacent stall where he began rubbing the belly of the chestnut mare.
"Lay down, Lady. Please ... it's awful cold tonight. Please lay down."
The mare complied as she always did to the soothing tone in his voice. Drawing the blanket up tightly around him, he lay down beside the horse, moving in close to her side. He was careful to place his frozen feet near enough to her for warmth, but not so near that she'd protest.
"They had a real purty tree, Lady, with candles. Bet it didn't look as purty from the inside, though. Weren't no snow on the inside."
He snuggled in closer to the warm beast. "Merry Christmas, Lady," he whispered.
The mare nickered and moved her head in closer to the boy as he drifted off to sleep, the scent of hay and livestock surrounding them. — Lorraine Heath

Nature is a greater and more perfect art, the art of God; though, referred to herself, she is genius; and there is a similarity between her operations and man's art even in the details and trifles. When the overhanging pine drops into the water, by the sun and water, and the wind rubbing it against the shore, its boughs are worn into fantastic shapes, and white and smooth, as if turned in a lathe. Man's art has wisely imitated those forms into which all matter is most inclined to run, as foliage and fruit. — Henry David Thoreau

I am bent over the desk, my breasts rubbing against the wood with every impact, and now my nipples are as tight and hard and sensitive as my clit. I'm awash in sensation, my entire body sparking like a live wire, and with the right touch, I know that I will shatter. I expect another smack, but this time his hands grab my hips instead. With his knee, he roughly shoves my legs apart. One hand comes down on my back, holding me in place over the desk. The other strokes my sex, opening me, readying me, though that is hardly necessary - as I am so ready for him to be inside me, I can hardly stand it. — J. Kenner

In exacting detail, the suit portrayed O'Reilly as a hypersexualized misogynist with a romance novelist's imagination. In one infamous exchange, O'Reilly described taking Mackris on a Caribbean sexcapade. You would basically be in the shower and then I would come in and I'd join you and you would have your back to me and I would take that little loofa thing and kinda' soap up your back ... rub it all over you, get you to relax. ... So anyway I'd be rubbing your big boobs and getting your nipples really hard, kinda' kissing your neck from behind ... and then I would take the other hand with the falafel [sic] thing and I'd put it on your pussy but you'd have to do it really light, just kind of a tease business ... — Anonymous

God what an outfield,' he says. 'What a left field.' He looks up at me, and I look down at him. 'This must be heaven,' he says.
No. It's Iowa,' I reply automatically. But then I feel the night rubbing softly against my face like cherry blossoms; look at the sleeping girl-child in my arms, her small hand curled around one of my fingers; think of the fierce warmth of the woman waiting for me in the house; inhale the fresh-cut grass small that seems locked in the air like permanent incense; and listen to the drone of the crowd, as below me Shoelss Joe Jackson tenses, watching the angle of the distant bat for a clue as to where the ball will be hit.
I think you're right, Joe,' I say, but softly enough not to disturb his concentration. — W.P. Kinsella

He settled a hand over her stomach, rubbing in soothing circles. "Lie easy, sweetheart."
"I c-can't. Oh, do hurry!"
Cam laughed softly, his parted lips dragging across her sensitive flesh. He traced her with his tongue, made her wet, and blew against the dampened curls. "It's better for you if I don't hurry."
"No it's not."
"Much you know about it. This is only your second time. — Lisa Kleypas

I guess it would be too much to ask to let Savannah bite my neck. Gary made an attempt at humor. He was rubbing his neck, every Dracula movie he had ever seen going through his mind.
A low growl rumbling in Gregori's throat was his answer. — Christine Feehan

As he paid the hansom and followed his wife's long train into the house he took refuge in the comforting platitude that the first six months were always the most difficult in marriage. 'After that I suppose we shall have pretty nearly finished rubbing off each other's angles,' he reflected; but the worst of it was that May's pressure was already bearing on the very angles whose sharpness he most wanted to keep — Edith Wharton

It will be full dark soon, and I do not like the look of that sky. The temperature is falling as well," he added, rubbing his hands together briskly. "I think we shall be in for a bit of snow from the look of the cloud just over the Downs." Naturally the gentlemen had to spend another quarter of an hour debating the weather as the ladies stood shivering, Portia rolling her eyes at me behind Father's back. In the end they all agreed that, yes, it was indeed growing colder and darker and we ought to depart at once for the Abbey. — Deanna Raybourn

And we daily in our experiments electrise bodies plus or minus, as we think proper. [These terms we may use till your Philosophers give us better.] To electrise plus or minus, no more needs to be known than this, that the parts of the Tube or Sphere, that are rubb'd, do, in the Instant of Friction, attract the Electrical Fire, and therefore take it from the Thin rubbing; the same parts immediately, as the Friction upon them ceases, are disposed to give the fire they have received, to any Body that has less. — Benjamin Franklin

The ad in the paper said 'Big Sale. Last Week.' Why advertise? I already missed it. They're just rubbing it in. — Yakov Smirnoff

I, who had had my heart full for hours, took advantage of an early moment of solitude, to cry in it very bitterly. Suddenly a little hairy head thrust itself from behind my pillow into my face, rubbing its ears and nose against me in a responsive agitation, and drying the tears as they came. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How many generations of ours have worn themselves out by rubbing their foreheads on the steps of the god? But when did the god take pit on you? What big thing has he done for you? Generation after generation, you have been used to clean the village of its garbage and god gave you the dead animals to eat. In spite of all that, god did not show you any pity. It is not this god that you worship, it is your ignorance. — B.R. Ambedkar

He felt Ty's hand on his arm, rubbing comfortingly. Ty had been unusually tactile since the hospital, making up for Zane's lack of vision by touching him whenever he was able, as if he somehow knew how much it helped. Zane closed his eyes, grateful for it. He covered Ty's hand and squeezed gently. It was easy to think black thoughts when you were stuck in the dark, and Ty's touch helped him resist it. — Abigail Roux

He looked up. "Is it time already?" She nodded.

He rose and waited as she gathered her things. The dog followed them out the door, but then he bounded down the stairs to the drive. The animal sniffed intently at something on the ground and then rolled, happily rubbing his head and neck in whatever it was.

Lord Swartingham sighed. "I'll have one of the stable boys wash him before he enters the Abbey again."

"Mmm," Anna murmured thoughtfully. "What do you think of 'Adonis'?"

He gave her a look so full of incredulous horror that she was hard-pressed not to laugh. "No, I suppose not," she murmured. — Elizabeth Hoyt

BOYET
A mark! O, mark but that mark! A mark, says my lady!
Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may be.
MARIA
Wide o' the bow hand! i' faith, your hand is out.
COSTARD
Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout.
BOYET
An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.
COSTARD
Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin.
MARIA
Come, come, you talk greasily; your lips grow foul.
COSTARD
She's too hard for you at pricks, sir: challenge her to bowl.
BOYET
I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl.
Exeunt BOYET and MARIA — William Shakespeare

Don't say that. Don't even joke about it! The idea of ten weeks with a single, locked-down girlfriend - even the fake kind - gives me all over body hives. Sue me for making a face about that. I don't think you've thought any of this through. It would involve all of our friends, parents - even if we don't use my real name - text messaging, emails - and a lot of time. Time is something I don't have to burn. Plus, it would kill the variety of ... of ... yeah ... girl fun in my summer," I imply, wondering if she'll call my bluff. The only real summer varieties I score are the extra odd jobs I pick up at the rink.
She turns bright red and I have to hide my smile.
"Disgusting," she snorts and reverts back to rubbing her temples. — Anne Eliot

How did you know? That she wasn't the one for him?" Now he's staring at his hands, slowing rubbing them together. "They just didn't have that ... natural magic. You know? It never seemed easy."
My voice grows tiny. "Do you think things have to be easy? For it to work?"
Cricket's head shoots up, his eyes bulging as they grasp my meaning. "NO. I mean, yes, but ... sometimes there are ... extenuating circumstances. That prevent it from being easy. For a while. But then people overcome those ... circumstances ... and ... "
"So you believe in second chances?" I bite my lip.
"Second, third, fourth. Whatever it takes. However long it takes. If the person is right," he adds.
If the person is ... Lola?"
This time, he holds my gaze. "Only if the other person is Cricket."
Chapter 27
Pg 273 — Stephanie Perkins

Gabriel slowly began rubbing his eyes, for in addition to suffering from one of the worst hangover headaches of his life, he was slightly enjoying the sight of Miss Mitchell in his T-shirt and boxer shorts, passionately angry and shouting at him in a multiplicity of Western European languages. It was the second most erotic thing he had ever witnessed. And it was entirely beside the point. — Sylvain Reynard

Dogs live in the moment, and don't have a concept of past or future. That's why you must immediately correct your dog if it breaks the rules. The old trick of rubbing your puppy's face in his poop or urine is not effective - your dog will have no idea why it is being punished. — Tom Ester

Don't tell me! You're just rubbing it in! It serves me right, though: it was vanity that kept me from coming, egoistic vanity and base despotism, which I haven't been able to get rid of all my life, though all my life I've been trying to break myself. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Stories are a kind of thing, too. Stories and objects share something, a patina. I thought I had this clear, two years ago before I started, but I am no longer sure how this works. Perhaps a patina is a process of rubbing back so that the essential is revealed, the way that a striated stone tumbled in a river feels irreducible, the way that this netsuke of a fox has become little more than a memory of a nose and a tail. But it also seems additive, in the way that a piece of oak furniture gains over years and years of polishing, and the way the leaves of my medlar shine. — Edmund De Waal

We've got a bozo who likes rubbing fear and lies in people's faces. He's the only media source in town except us. Who are we writing for?"
Elizabeth waved her hand emotionally. "The American people!"
Baker clasped his brow. "Let's narrow that."
Darrell stood. "We're writing for the community."
"And they deserve the facts," Baker warned. "Don't ever forget it. — Joan Bauer

Did you finish yours, Kota?"
"Working on it now, Actually."
"How's it going?"
He sat up, turning in his chair and holding up his notebook. "I don't know. What rhymes with formaldehyde?"
My eyes widened. Gabriel laughed, rubbing his fingers against his forehead. "Dude, what kind of poem are you writing?"
Kota blinked at us. "It's about a doctor."
"Does the doctor fall in love?" Gabriel asked.
"No."
"Does someone die?"
"Not in the story, technically."
"What does he do?"
"He performs an autopsy. — C.L.Stone

No element gets people telling crazy stories like mercury does. People have told me tales about pharmacists waxing floors with mercury, mothers rubbing it into babies' skin to kill germs, and 10-year-olds coating dimes in it to make them shine, then blithely carrying them around in their pockets. — Sam Kean

She stepped out of reach. "Go put on a shirt and get your mind out of bed."
"Impossible with you around."
"Pretend I'm holding a rifle. In fact, pretend I have you in the crosshairs."
Janvier sighed, rubbing at a jaw shadowed by morning stubble. "I love it when you talk dirty. — Nalini Singh

My first morning back, and I'm in such a terrific mood that I start the day off right by blasting Nappy Roots in the kitchen while I scarf down some cereal. The loud strains of "Good Day" draw the others from their bedrooms, and Garrett is the first to appear, clad in boxers and rubbing his eyes.

"Morning, Sunshine," he mumbles. "Please tell me you made some coffee."

I point to the counter. "Go nuts."

He pours himself a cup and plops down on one of the stools. "Did cartoon chipmunks dress you this morning?" he grumbles. "You're scarily chipper."

"And you're scarily grumpy. Smile, dude. It's our favorite day of the year, remember? — Elle Kennedy

Holding Naoko in my arms, I wanted to explain to her, I am having intercourse with you now. I am inside you. But this is really nothing. It doesn't matter. It is nothing but the joining of two bodies. All we are doing is telling each other things that can only be told by the rubbing together of two imperfect lumps of flesh. By doing this, we are sharing our imperfection. — Haruki Murakami

We're lucky Esme thought to add an extra room. No one was planning for Ness-Renesmee."
I frowned at him, my thoughts channeled down a less pleasant path.
"Not you too," I complained.
"Sorry, love. I hear it in their thoughts all the time, you know. It's rubbing off on me.
I sighed. My baby, the sea serpent. Maybe there was no help for it. Well, I wasn't giving in. — Stephenie Meyer

At the teasing penetration, my hips jerk upward. Wes chuckles and eases his finger deeper, until the pad of it is stroking my prostate. My entire body trembles. Tingles. Burns. He spends a maddeningly long time torturing me with his mouth and finger - no, fingers. He's got two inside me now, rubbing that sensitive place and bringing white dots to my eyes. "Wes," I murmur. He raises his head. His gray eyes are smoky with desire. "Hmmm?" he says lazily. "Stop fucking teasing me and start fucking fucking me," I rasp. "Fucking fucking you? Did you really need two fuckings?" "One's an adverb and one's a verb." My voice is as tight as every muscle in my body. I'm about to go up in flames if he doesn't make me come. His laughter warms my thigh. "I love the English language, dude. It's so creative." "Are we really having this conversation right now?" I growl when his teeth sink into my inner thigh. His fingers are still lodged inside me, but no longer moving. — Sarina Bowen

I might've said something welcoming to the boy, but I'd learnt from it happening to me personal that if you wet your pants in front of a bunch of strangers, you don't really want no one talking to you. You don't want no one asking why you're walking stiff legged or doing nothing that will draw attention to yourself. My keeping quiet waren't from being ignorant and unwlecoming, it was done so's not to shame him. 'Sides, after he got done walking all the way to the Settlement with that pee chaffing 'round his pants rubbing him raw, he waren't gonna want to talk atall! — Christopher Paul Curtis

Mal slid his hand behind my neck, rubbing at the tight muscles. "Relax," he ordered. "It isn't good for the baby."
"I am not pregnant."
"Ah, shit, that's right. We were s'posed to be keeping it quiet. Sorry, pumpkin." He smacked himself in the forehead. I would've been happy to do it for him. — Kylie Scott

Balloons
Since Christmas they have lived with us, Guileless and clear, Oval soul-animals, Taking up half the space, Moving and rubbing on the silk Invisible air drifts, Giving a shriek and pop When attacked, then scooting to rest, barely trembling. Yellow cathead, blue fish
Such queer moons we live with Instead of dead furniture! Straw mats, white walls And these traveling Globes of thin air, red, green, Delighting The heart like wishes or free Peacocks blessing Old ground with a feather Beaten in starry metals. Your small Brother is making His balloon squeak like a cat. Seeming to see A funny pink world he might eat on the other side of it, He bites, Then sits Back, fat jug Contemplating a world clear as water. A red Shred in his little fist. — Sylvia Plath

He didn't hold the door open, instead letting it fly back and knock me in the face.
"Thanks," I muttered, rubbing my nose.
"You're welcome," he said, my sarcasm lost on him as always. — A Meredith Walters

I squinted through the big window, a portal to another world, trying to get a better view of the primal love scene before us. All I could see was a mass of wriggling fur and finger-like toes until my eyes focused in on one male and two females kissing, ear-tonguing and giving each other enthusiastic oral sex, punctuated with occasional somersaults, smacks and nibbles on fruit and leaves. Sometimes they interacted as a threesome. Other times, two would cavort together, while the third played with herself, alternating between fingering and using a red rubber ball as a kind of sex toy, rubbing and bouncing it vigorously against her large pink vulva. — Susan Block

Because you are not scared to admit out loud that you're afraid. Or to ask questions ... and because you know that your husband is in pain, you will go to him and not threaten his ability to provide with words that cut and burn in another's mind forever, until death do you apart. Because you will tell him that its right for him to change profession and that it is not his fault that the shoe he first brought to your marriage no longer fits. You'll say that you don't care what your parents think , or people think, and material things can always be replaced, but not him. And because you will have the patience and wisdom to understand everything that he is afraid of, you'll kiss his boo-boos instead of rubbing salt in the wounds of his failures ... — Leslie Esdaile

You let this become a mess," he cursed, as though he'd walked up to Tam and asked him to be drop dead gorgeous and vulnerable, just so that he would have his first guy crush.
"I didn't let anything happen. I just ... felt it. I think he feels it too," he argued, trying to talk sense into him. Why was this a bad thing? Konnor didn't have anything to do with Tam anymore, so why did it matter?
"Oh God. You're in serious shit now," Mack bemoaned, rolling his eyes and rubbing his forehead. — Elaine White

I didn't understand at the time why Vince was so interested in teaching me life lessons when all I was trying to do was get my video played. But now I think it's because he saw a little bit of himself in me. Just like me, he was a rebel who listened to no one and did whatever it took to get the job done, pissing people off with his stubbornness and drive in the process. Therefore, he was trying to teach me how to better myself instead of repeatedly getting into trouble by rubbing people the wrong way. — Chris Jericho

Stars, that hand gets cold," Kai murmured. Rolling onto his back, he took the prosthetic hand in between both of his palms, warming it as he would warm icy fingers on a winter's day. Cinder sat up and looked down at him. His eyes were still closed. He could have fallen asleep again, but for his palms rubbing over her metal hand. His shirt was rumpled, his hair tousled against the sheets.
"Kai?"
He grunted in response.
"I love you."
A sleepy smile curved across his mouth. "I love you too."
"Good." Leaning over, she kissed him fast. "Because I'm taking the shower first. — Marissa Meyer

Slowly, slowly pulling up. Or grabbing hold of Debby's arm, vise-like, for an Indian rub and what starts as a joke gets more and more frantic, him rubbing until he draws speckles of blood, his teeth grinding. She could see him getting that same look Runner got when he was around the kids: jacked up and tense. "Dad needs to leave." "Geez, Patty, not even a hi before you toss me out? Come on, let's talk, I got a business proposition for you." "I'm in no position to make a business deal, Runner," she said. "I'm broke." "You're never as broke as you say," he said with a leer, and twisted his baseball cap backward on stringy hair. He'd meant it to sound jokey, but it came out menacing, as if she'd better not be broke if she knew what was good for her. He dumped the girls off him and walked over to her, standing too close as always, beer sweat sticking his longjohn shirt to his chest. "Didn't you just sell the tiller, Patty? Vern Evelee told — Gillian Flynn

Rather than answer, he just moans again. Low, agonized. Shit, he's desperate for it. I guess I would be too if I'd walked around all day with a plug rubbing on my prostate. I smooth my hand down his strong back, then lean in and plant a kiss between his shoulder blades as I withdraw again. "I like you like this," I murmur. "That sexy ass in the air. Having you at my mercy. Hearing you beg. — Sarina Bowen

Is it that our needs grew smaller?" asked Hugh. "Or is it just that the fear and deprivation makes one appreciate simple things more?" "I think our ability to be happy gets covered up by the years of petty rubbing along in the world, the getting ahead," said Daniel. "But war burns away all the years of decay, like an old penny dropped into vinegar. — Helen Simonson

I just wanted to know what it was like," she said, "in case it was my last chance. I never wanted to take him away from you."

"You didn't. It's not like you tied him down and forced him." Sparrow paused, considering. "You didn't, did you?"

"Practically. But he didn't scream for help, so..."

Sparrow launched the plum. It was close range, and hit Ruby on her collarbone. She said, "Ow!" though it hadn't really hurt. Rubbing at the place of impact, she glared at Sparrow. "Is that it, then? Have you spent your wrath?"

"Yes," said Sparrow, dusting off her palms. "It was one-plum wrath."

"How sad for Feral. He was only worth one plum. Won't he mope when we tell him. — Laini Taylor

Langley would never complete his newspaper project. I knew that and I'm sure he knew it as well. It was a crazy foolish hand-rubbing scheme that kept his mind in the mood he liked to be in. — E.L. Doctorow

I walk into the clubhouse today and it's like walking into the Mayo Clinic. We have four doctors, three therapists and five trainers. Back when I broke in, we had one trainer who carried a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and by the 7th inning he'd already drunk it. — Tommy Lasorda

She arched into his thigh, grinding herself on its solid length. another low cry escaping her as constricting tension pulsed through her core.
"F#ck. I want to hear you come." Rob caught her earlobe between his teeth, gave it a little nip before flicking his tongue in her ear. "I want to hear you lose control and know I'm the one that stripped it from you. His thumb stroked her nipple again, his lips scoring a languid path over her jaw and throat once more. "Show me why you're really here, Doc," he whispered, rubbing his thigh against her pussy with increasing rhythm, "and I will show you it was worth the f#cking trip. — Lexxie Couper

Stop looking at me like that," I say, frowning and rubbing at my chest. He has this habit of making my heart sore, making my lungs feel like there's not enough air.
He tilts his head attractively, which only makes matters worse. "Like what?"
"Like you're molesting me with your eyes," I blurt out.
His answering laugh is long and deep. I can barely handle the affection in his gaze. "Okay, I'll try to stop. But if it all gets to be too much for you, this apartment happens to have a very nice bathroom. You can go rub one out again to take the edge off. I'll come listen, too, if that will help."
There he goes again, pushing me.
I do a slow blink at him before coming out with a rather masterful comeback. And when I say "masterful," I mean shit. "Why don't you go and rub one out?"
He cocks an eyebrow. "I don't rub out, darlin'. I jack off. — L. H. Cosway

I came to California and got signed at a young age. And it's not like you see in the movies, where you start rubbing shoulders with Timbaland and Pharrell, and you become a giant pop star. — Bruno Mars

I am not a terribly physical person. Helen wasn't either. We'd never hugged or even shaken hands, so it was odd to find myself rubbing her bare shoulder and then her back. It was, I though, like stroking some sort of sea creature, the flesh slick and fatty beneath my palms. In my memory, there was something on the stove, a cauldron of tomato gravy, and the smell of it mixed with the camphor of the Tiger Balm. The windows were steamed, Tony Bennett was on the radio, and saying, 'Please,' her voice catching on the newness of the word, Helen asked me to turn it up. — David Sedaris

Rigor mortis was caused by a natural build-up of calcium in the muscles; living bodies used that calcium for various things, but in dead bodies it just built up and built up until the muscles grew rigid. In a day or so she'd be loose again from decay, but for now we had to knead the calcium out by hand, stroking and pressing and rubbing the flesh until it was soft and pliable. — Dan Wells

The movie starts and he motions for me to sit down next to him. I don't, though. I pat my lap so he'll lay his head down, and then I thread my fingers into his hair. He tenses immediately. "What's wrong?" I ask. "No one has ever done that before," he says quietly. He rolls to face the TV so I can't see his face. "I'm going to do it all the time," I promise. And I mean it. I'm going to do it every time I'm with him. He deserves to have someone show him how wonderful he is. I can tell when he goes to sleep. He gets soft in my lap and his face gets heavy against my thigh. But I don't stop rubbing. I keep touching him, because giving him comfort feels better than any kiss I have ever had. — Tammy Falkner

Green leaned his head back, wanting everything Ruxs was going to do to him. "Upstairs. Get the fuck upstairs, Mark. We can't do it right here. What if Curtis comes downstairs?" Green panted. Thank god some portion of his brain was still working. "Oh shit. You're right." Ruxs chuckled softly, rubbing his hand up and down Green's body. "You're so goddamn beautiful, I can't think straight when I see you. You can't be walking around in a fuckin' silk robe, nothing but this soft material between me and your naked body." He squeezed Green's ass, thrust against him a couple more times before he dropped Green's robe back down and pulled his pajama pants back over his ass. "Go — A.E. Via

Be sure to do burning pots at least once a month to clean the physical atmosphere of your home. This is done by getting a small cooking pot and placing it on the floor with a plate under it. Place a half an inch of Epsom salt in the pot covered by an inch of rubbing alcohol. Then light a match to it. I call this the New Age campfire. This will clean whatever room you put it in 100% of all etheric, astral and mental negative energies. — Joshua Stone

Perry, I've wanted you since the moment I saw you. I'm not going to stop showing you off or rubbing it in to everyone I know, anytime soon ... You're mine. And you're mine alone. From now until the end of time. — Karina Halle

I'm taking a shower."
Oh, God. She was killing him. Making him want to laugh out loud. Where had his sense of self-preservation gone? He didn't feel emotion - that was far too dangerous. He shivered beneath the blankets, suddenly afraid for her. For himself.
"You're still cold. I should have thought to rub you down with some warm oil. Lexi makes it and I use it sometimes when I come in from a dive. It warms you up fast. Can you roll over, because I'm not rubbing your front."
"Why not?"
"If you want a massage, turn over. — Christine Feehan

My father always used to tell one of his dreams, because it somehow seemed of a piece with what was to follow. He believed that it was a consequence of the thing's presence in the next room. My father dreamed of blood.
It was the vividness of the dreams that was impressive, their minute detail and horrible reality. The blood came through the keyhole of a locked door which communicated with the next room. I suppose the two rooms had originally been designed en suite. It ran down the door panel with a viscous ripple, like the artificial one created in the conduit of Trumpingdon Street. But it was heavy, and smelled. The slow welling of it sopped the carpet and reached the bed. It was warm and sticky. My father woke up with the impression that it was all over his hands. He was rubbing his first two fingers together, trying to rid them of the greasy adhesion where the fingers joined." ("The Troll") — T.H. White

Under," he said in a shaky voice, "normal circumstances, I'd certainly be in love with you." "Nobody falls in love under normal circumstances," she said softly, rubbing his finger with her warm thumb. He restrained an impulse to look to see if there was still ink on it. "Love isn't in the category of normal things. Not any worthwhile kind of love, anyway. — Tim Powers

who wants to make it grand or fortify it for the coitus, must rub it before copulation with tepid water, until it gets red and extended by the blood flowing into it, in consequence of the heat; he must then anoint it with a mixture of honey and ginger, rubbing it in sedulously. Then let him join the woman; he will procure for her such pleasure that she objects to him getting off her again. — Nigel Cliff

My new 9mm didn't fit my hand as well as my old one, but it was rapidly becoming a familiar weight. At first I'd decided it was okay to wear as long as I shot only at supernatural bad guys who were already shooting at me. Lately, I'd had to broaden that definition to anytime my life was in danger. I was currently leaning toward a slightly more comprehensive rule somewhere between proactive self-defense and the-bastards-had-it-coming, which, if I survived long enough, I intended to blame on my deranged partner rubbing off on me. — Karen Chance

What a blessing to be able to leave the cares of life for a brief period and spend time in the outstretched arms of your Shepherd, rubbing, as it were, your cheek against His face in intimate fellowship through prayer. — Elizabeth George

Hey, Ambs, you have a good day?"
Jake asked as i got in the car.
"actually yeah i did, right up until the very end when some slut hit on me," i answered with a shrug. Jake immediately slapped Liam around the back of the head.
"Ouch, shith, what was that for?" Liam asked, rubbing his head.
"for hitting on my little sister." Jake shrugged.
"How did you know it was me? — Kirsty Moseley

Then he continues his rant,saying, "And even if I didn't know them, I know their type."
"And what type is that?" she asks,leaning foward in her chair,yearning for confirmation that he gets it,that they are like-minded in their observations of others and the circumspect way they view the world.
"Oh,let's see," he says,rubbing his jaw. "Superficial.Artificial.Sheep.
They're more worried about how they come across to others than who they really are.They exhaust themselves in their pursuit of things that don't really matter. — Emily Giffin

So if we're all quarks and electrons ... " he begins.
What?"
We could make love and it would be nothing more than quarks and electrons rubbing together."
Better than that," I say. "Nothing really 'rubs together' in the microscopic world. Matter never really touches other matter, so we could make love without any of our atoms touching at all. Remember that electrons sit on the outside of atoms, repelling other electrons. So we could make love and actually repel each other at the same time. — Scarlett Thomas

He had become completely mad in his movements; He seemed to be doing everything at the same time. It was a shaking of the head, up and down, sideways; jerky, vigorous hands; quick walking, sitting, crossing the legs, uncrossing, getting up, rubbing the hands, rubbing his fly, hitching his pants, looking up and saying 'Am,' and sudden slitting of the eyes to see everywhere; and all the time he was grabbing me by the ribs and talking, talking — Jack Kerouac

When he finished cleaning my open wounds, he found a jar of salve and began rubbing it into the rough parts of my skin. I sort of got lost in the feel of his hands massaging mine. — Richelle Mead

It's like I'm trying to distract him with something shiny." Cath circled her spoon hand in front of her face, accidentally flicking cottage cheese on her sweater. "He already knows about all this. This is what I look like." She tried to scrape the cottage cheese off without rubbing it in." (pg. 290) — Rainbow Rowell

Thank you, baby," he breathes, covering my upturned face in soft feather-light kisses. I open my eyes and gaze up at him, and he wraps his arms tighter around me.
"Your cheek is pink from the baize," he murmurs, rubbing my face tenderly. "How was that?" His eyes are wide and cautious.
"Teeth-clenchingly good," I mutter. "I like it rough, Christian, and I like it gentle, too. I like that it's with you."
He closes his eyes and hugs me even tighter. — E.L. James

The guitar. Rubbing the gentle polish
On Every smooth contour.
On the lap. Knowing every curve
As the light shines from it.

On stage a planned metamorphosis
Takes places as the hours go by and the
Space is transformed to a concert hall.
The energetic nemesis has struck.

The risers are transformed into a stage
And black boxes turned into powerful
Pieces of sound equipment.
The spring is taut.

Backstage while pandemonium
Sweeps the hall and people
Crowd the arena as ants flow to a cake.

The stage is set, the
Instruments tuned and placed.
The musicians work out last minute
Kinks as the lights dim.

An intense force hits the spectators.
Energy is released in every form.
A power rage beyond comprehension. — David Morrell

I frowned at the eye in my palm. "What, literally shout at the tattoo?"
"You could try rubbing it on certain body areas and I might come faster. — Sarah J. Maas

Was awakened abruptly just after dawn by a tiny stinging sensation on top of my head. I blinked and put up a hand to investigate. The movement startled a large gray jay who had been pulling hairs out of my head, and he shot up into a nearby pine tree, screeching hysterically. "Serve you right, mate," I muttered, rubbing the top of my head, but couldn't help smiling. I had been told often enough that my hair looked like a bird's nest first thing in the morning; perhaps there was something to it, after all. — Diana Gabaldon

I know it's not much - "
"No one has ever done anything like this for me." He shook his head in awe, looking back at the greenhouse. "No one."
"It's just a dinner," she said, rubbing her neck and walking to the table, if only because the urge to go to him was so strong that she needed a table between them. — Sarah J. Maas

It's fine if you aren't into rubbing acorns or turning in circles before you create, but the brain is nothing if not responsive to familiar stimuli. Creating — Todd Brison

What was that?" I croaked.
Akhol sidestepped into my view and towered over us. "It was a Demon."
"But you said - "
"I know what I said," Akhol cut in sharply, rubbing his eyes. "There was something wrong with it. Like the Demon
had adapted to the darkness and water."
I shivered. "Did he have a ring that he called 'my precious'?" I joked to try and lighten the mood. I didn't get a good
look at the Demon, but my mind had no problems picturing Gollum.
They stared at me blankly. — Laura Kreitzer

Nina pulled the pins from her hair, shucked off the blonde wig, and tossed it on the table they'd set in the middle of the tomb. She slumped into a chair, rubbing her fingers along her scalp. "So much better," she said with a happy sigh. But Matthias could not ignore the almost greenish cast to her skin.
She was worse tonight. Either she'd run into trouble with Smeet or she'd simply overexerted herself. And yet, watching her, Matthias felt something in him ease. At least now she looked like Nina again, her brown hair in damp tangles, her eyes half-shut. Was it normal to be fascinated by the way someone slouched? — Leigh Bardugo

These are the males," she said. Beth leaned in to examine it. "Any stimulation," Magdalena said, and finished the thought by gently rubbing her fingers together. The bee's hoary tail split open, and a thin, stamenlike organ shot out and curled. "Like all males, harmless and easily aroused." She laughed. "It's the females you have to be careful about. — Christopher Bollen

I threw away the whole of my working history, my photograph albums, diaries and stage clothes. Shoving big, ugly discs on walls is a bit like rubbing people's faces in it, saying 'I am considerably richer than you.' It is completely unnecessary. — Alison Moyet

Your peers are people in the business who are going to push you forward. So I think it's one of the reasons that Syracuse students come out truly ready for the industry because we've been rubbing elbows with people who are likeminded and just as 'pushy' or as ready to go as we are. — Mike Tirico

What kind of world is it, Ben thought, that lets its coaches die without his boys around him, buying him Cokes, calling him by his first name, and rubbing his shoulder with Atomic Balm? He died without a face in a room I never saw without my kisses in the stained gauze or without my prayers entering the center of his pain. But worst of all, O God, you let him die, let Coach Murphy die, let Dave die, without my thanks, my thanks, my thanks. — Pat Conroy

It was like a lucky pebble kept in my pocket that got so shined up from rubbing against the denim that no one could tell it had ever been an ordinary stone. — Jacquelyn Mitchard

Hm," said the Count, rubbing his lips and regarding Miles with cool approval. "Interesting. Well. For your fourth consoling thought, I would point out that in this venue" - a wave of his finger took in Vorbarr Sultana, and by extension Barrayar - "acquiring a reputation as a slick and dangerous man, who would kill without compunction to obtain and protect his own, is not all bad. In fact, you might even find it useful. — Lois McMaster Bujold

She could hardly believe it, not after ten years, but they were finally making out on her couch. And Holy Mother of God, Bryce Ryder could kiss!
He was slow and lazy with his kisses, but masterful. His tongue and fingers were thrusting forward and back, in and out, mimicking sex, winding her up so tight until she was rubbing her p#ssy against his hand while clutching his hair. More . . . she had to have more. — Sophie Renwick

Mr. Pilates was a bully and a narcissist and a dirty old man; he and Christopher got along very well. When Christopher was doing his workout, Pilates would bring one of his assistants over to watch, rather as the house surgeon brings an intern to study a patient with a rare deformity. 'Look at him!' Pilates would exclaim to the assistant, 'That could have been a beautiful body, and look what he's done to it! Like a birdcage that somebody trod on!' Pilates had grown tubby with age, but he would never admit it; he still thought himself a magnificent figure of a man. 'That's not fat,' he declared, punching himself in the stomach, 'that's good healthy meat!' He frankly lusted after some of his girl students. He used to make them lie back on an inclined board and climb on top of them, on the pretext that he was showing them an exercise. What he really was doing was rubbing off against them through his clothes; as was obvious from the violent jerking of his buttocks. — Christopher Isherwood

Would it be possible for me to see something from up there?" asked Milo politely.
"You could," said Alec, "but only if you try very hard to look at things as an adult does."
Milo tried as hard as he could, and, as he did, his feet floated slowly off the ground until he was standing in the air next to Alex Bings. He looked around very quickly and, an instant later, crashed back down to the earth again.
"Interesting, wasn't it?" asked Alex.
"Yes, it was," agreed Milo, rubbing his head and dusting himself off, "but I think I'll continue to see things as a child. It's not so far to fall. — Norton Juster

It's not something you tell your single best friend. It'd be like rubbing your nose in the poop of my happiness. — Shannon Hale

THIS book is radioactive. And so are you. Unless you are dead, in which case we can tell how long ago you died by how much of your radioactivity is left. That's what radiocarbon dating is - the measurement of the reduction of radioactivity of old bones to deduce the time of death. Alcohol is radioactive too - at least the kind we drink. Rubbing alcohol usually isn't, unless it was made organically - that is, from wood. In fact, the US Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives tests wine, gin, whiskey, and vodka for radioactivity. A fifth of whiskey must emit at least 400 beta rays every minute or the drink is considered unfit for human consumption. Biofuels are radioactive. Fossil fuels are not. Of those killed by the Hiroshima atomic bomb, the best estimate is that fewer than 2% died of radiation-induced cancer. These statements are all true. They are not even disputed, at least by experts. Yet they surprise most people. — Richard A. Muller

Whenever you feel a little stricken down in pain, think about this. The knife has to be sharpened by striking and rubbing it against something strong before it can become useful! You are going to be great after the struggles. — Israelmore Ayivor

Halfhearted or insincere apologies are often worse than not apologizing at all because recipients find them insulting. If you've done something wrong in your dealings with another person, it's as if there's an infection in your relationship. A good apology is like an antibiotic; a bad apology is like rubbing salt I the wound. — Randy Pausch

It would have been amazing to have been a student at Oxford during that golden moment in the 1910s, rubbing elbows with the likes of Aldous Huxley and T.E. Lawrence, before World War I shattered everything forever. — Kevin Kwan

It is easy to curse someone, even a frail person can do that, but to bless someone it needs a strong heart.To love someone, to wish the best for them one must be selfless. People nowadays wish good for others, but their words know no soul, their wishes are dry, halfhearted and for name sake. As to watch someone excel, to watch someone excel due to the blessings you put upon them with a good heart and positive attitude is rate nowadays.
Nowadays people don't find happiness in the happiness of others but in rubbing them off. People feel bad when someone suffer but they feel the worse when someone prosper beyond them. — Ameya Agrawal

I'm familiar with a lot of guys, hang out with those guys. A couple of my teammates actually went to Florida, so I'm familiar with a lot of those guys. It's going to be fun walking out with a victory and rubbing it in their faces. — Joanna Noelle Levesque