Taste Of Lips Quotes & Sayings

Oh my gosh, he smells good, like some exotic but comforting spice, nutmeg or cardamom. Slowly Damian lowers his head to mine and I think my chest might explode, my heart is tap-dancing so quickly.
He's going to kiss me.
I've imagined this and now it's really happening, I am like a block of wood. I can't move. I can't breathe. I close my eyes as the lightest feather of a breath , then lips, brushing over my lips. His breath is sweet and the taste of coffee barely lingers in his mouth. I feel as though my whole body has turned to liquid, into a river of millions of droplets, rushing apart and then back together.
"You have the softest lips," he whispers as he pulls back to look at me.
"So do you," I murmur. Oh, was that a stupid thing to say? I turn my face into his jacket and breathe in his scent. — Lisa Ann Sandell

Maybe I wanted you to be at the wedding. Maybe I didn't want to be the only guy present without a date. Maybe I never forgot how it felt to kiss those adorable, pouty lips of yours, or the chemistry between us." He hesitated for a few seconds before adding, "After I had a taste, you had to know I'd be back for more." Kristin — J.S. Scott

Dead. The words fall from my tongue and linger there like poison. A slow death hanging from my lips. I shake the thought away and swallow but I can still taste the remnants in the back of my throat. It's sour and I gag a little as tears swell behind my eyes. — Celia Mcmahon

I bent over him and, before I could say anything, he grabbed me by the back of my head, dragged my mouth down and kissed me. Kissed me, with no drama and no explanation, like it was just something we did.
Knowing in a half-forgotten way that he kissed like a demon was one thing; experiencing it all over again was quite another. There was no refined seduction- Pritkin kissed openmouthed, hard and hungry, until I could hear nothing over the pounding of my heart, until I could taste my blood on his lips as his tongue thrust into me. — Karen Chance

Drat. I'm not sure anyone even noticed the kiss."
"I noticed it." He rubbed his mouth with the side of his hand. The taste of ripe plums still lingered on his lips. He found himself unaccountably thirsty. — Tessa Dare

These books you're reading . . . I question your taste, Miss Twill."

She straightened the collar of his maroon coat. "I'll read what I please, Mr. Thane."

"I have a suggestion," he said with a wry smile, stepping away and glancing back at the sunset, which had already grown ruddier. "I have a dissertation on eighteenth-century Folding basics on interlibrary loan. It's wonderfully dry and has all its nouns capitalized. I think you'll enjoy it."

Ceony frowned. "You want me to study primitive Folding techniques?"

"Only subprimitive," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "It never hurts to go back to basics, even if you think you know them."

"I do know them."

"Are you sure?"

Ceony paused. "Is this a hint for my test? — Charlie N. Holmberg

In a lightning-fast move, he placed both of his hands on the brick wall, caging me with his body. He leaned toward me and my heart shifted into a gear I didn't know existed. His warm breath caressed my neck, melting my frozen skin. I tilted my head, waiting for the solid warmth of his body on mine. I could see his eyes again and those dark orbs screamed hunger .
"I heard a rumor."
"What's that?" I struggled to get out.
"It's your birthday."
Terrified speaking would break the spell, I licked my suddenly dry lips and nodded.
"Happy birthday." Noah drew his lips closer to mine; that sweet musky smell overwhelmed my senses. I could almost taste his lips when he unexpectedly took a step back, inhaling deeply. The cold air slapped me into the land of sober. — Katie McGarry

I love you," she whispers.
"It's only a week," I tell her, but I loathe this separation as much as she does.
Echo looks at me with those pleading green eyes. I twine my fingers into her curls. The first taste of her lips is sweet. The second makes me forget there's a bus terminal full of people. The third causes me to lift her feet off the ground and deepen our kiss.
"Noah," she whispers in reprimand as she breaks away. "We're causing a scene."
"Not my problem." But I lower her to the ground anyhow. "Besides, it wasn't my fault. You're the one looking at me with take-me-to-bed eyes, and I felt you kissing me back. Once again, you're the one getting us into trouble."
Echo grins. "You are so impossible."
"Damn straight, baby. — Katie McGarry

Yes, I'm Daniel Tahi. I know what your lips taste like.I know you roll your eyes when you think someone is an idiot. I know that you wish you were six inches shorter because you hate being taller than most of the boys you've ever met. Your name is tattooed across my chest and written on my heart.You are a fire daughter of earth, fanua afi and I am vasa loloa,son of the ocean. I am yours ... And you can't even remember who I am. — Lani Wendt Young

She was slowly being overwhelmed by his scent, the feel of his hands on her and the taste of him. His arms tightened around her until she felt almost weightless on her toes. His lips moved along her neck and she heard the soft sigh of pleasure escape her lips and realized there was no choice for her to make. She'd already made it the day she'd met him. — Donna Augustine

Even in darkness your lips taste of sunshine — Francesca Lia Block

It makes you ache," he whispered, and she watched the curve of his lips in the darkness. "You'll make any promise, swear any oath. For one ... perfect ... unsoiled taste. — Sarah MacLean

I liked the taste of beer, its live, white lather, its brass-bright depths, the sudden world through the wet-brown walls of the glass, the tilted rush to the lips and the slow swallowing down to the lapping belly, the salt on the tongue, the foam at the corners. — Dylan Thomas

All I could think about was the heat of his soft lips, the way they fitted so wonderfully as I was coaxing him to open them some more, just enough to let my tongue slip in and taste him. I needed a taste, needed to complete this fantasy of mine. — Stephanie Witter

The bed we loved in was a spinning world
of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas
where we would dive for pearls. My lover's words
were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses
on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme
to his, now echo, assonance; his touch
a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.
Some nights, I dreamed he'd written me, the bed
a page beneath his writer's hands. Romance
and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste.
In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on,
dribbling their prose. My living laughing love -
I hold him in the casket of my widow's head
as he held me upon that next best bed.

- Anne Hathaway — Carol Ann Duffy

You took something of mine when you returned to the sea.You took my heart. The wind sighed. The salt air touched his lips like a cool kiss, like the taste of tears. — Virginia Kantra

Whatever the cause, I could not meet his sunshine with cloud. If this were my last moment with him, I would not waste it in forced, unnatural distance. I loved him well - too well not to smite out of my path even Jealousy herself, when she would have obstructed a kind farewell. A cordial word from his lips, or a gentle look from his eyes, would do me good, for all the span of life that remained to me; it would be comfort in the last strait of loneliness; I would take it - I would taste the elixir, and pride should not spill the cup. — Charlotte Bronte

But just as the orchestra begins to play, an odd taste sweeps across my tongue from front to back. Like a volatile mixture of sulfur and ammonia, hot and burning as it trickles down the inside of my throat. A vile swear almost escapes my lips. There's a faery here. — Elizabeth May

I'm not sure if the question's rhetorical or if she thinks I have a clue to her metaphysical mystery. And I'm in no state to answer either way because I'm crying. I don't realize it till I taste the sale against my lips. I can't remember the last time I've cried but, once I accept the mortification of sniveling like a baby, the floodgates open and I'm sobbing now, in front of Mia. In front of the whole damn world. — Gayle Forman

Some folks like trains,
some folks like ships,

I like the way you move you hips
All I want is a taste of your lips,
boy,
All I want is a taste of your lips. — Kathy Acker

On the lips of my enemy, my sister's lover, my lover's killer, I taste the punishment I deserve. I taste oblivion. — Karen Marie Moning

For some reason Canon Fenneau made me feel a little uneasy. His voice might be soft, it was also coercive. He had small eyes, a large loose mouth, the lips thick, a somewhat receding chin. The eyes were the main feature. They were unusual eyes, not only almost unnaturally small, but vague, moist, dreamy, the eyes of a medium. His cherubic side, increased by a long slightly uptilted nose, was a little too good to be true, with eyes like that. In the manner in which he gave you all his attention there was a taste for mastery. — Anthony Powell

Kiss me one last time Skye ... before I die. I want to enter heaven with the taste of you on my lips. — J.L. McCoy

Even after six years, he was still turned on by the bastard, still desperate to kiss his lips and see how it felt to kiss him into submission, until he saw him as more than a loser geek.
He wanted to taste his tongue, to touch his abs and stroke his cock; do all the things that it was so wrong to want to do to him. Wrong because of Ben, because of his love for Ben,
because he barely knew Jaxton, back then and now.
What the hell was wrong with him? — Elaine White

Self-help and those stupid proverbs, they do nothing. Soul food? It's like trying to cure starvation with a sugar cube. It might taste sweet on the lips but once it dissolves, the emptiness is still there. — C. Sean McGee

Like I could stop? Don't you know I dream about this when I'm away?" he asked, nudging me with his nose, exactly where I needed his mouth to be.
"You ... dream about ... this?" I asked, arching my back. I was so close, so very close.
"Fuck, yes, are you kidding?" He flattened his tongue and dragged it across my entire sex, dipping inside and continuing up, closing his mouth now and encircling me with his lips. Releasing me with a groan of his own, he brought one hand down, using his fingers to press into me. "I think about this, and the sounds you make when you come, the way you taste. Mmm ... sweet Caroline, you drive me crazy. — Alice Clayton

My first thought isn't that I'm gay or that Freddie is a boy or that he's one of my best friends. His lips are lips. They're soft and they taste like pumpkin pie and whiskey. — Julie Murphy

But there was something different about Flynn, and it wasn't just the way he was looking at her. His grip tightened on her wrist
not painfully, but possessively. His other arm went up as he leaned against the shelving, effectively boxing her in with his body without making any further contact.
To her horror, she felt herself go warm and liquid in places she shouldn't. "Let go of me." Evie whispered.
His eyes were green. A bright mind-blowing green. And they were staring into hers intently, daring her to lean in closer, to taste those sinful lips ... — M.A. Grant

I'd feed you the cake just to watch your lips wrap around the fork. Then I'd watch your beautiful throat muscles work swallowing the sticky sweetness, fantasizin' about smearin' chocolate frosting down your neck so I could lick it off. Slowly. And when I finished feedin' you, I'd press my mouth to yours for a thorough taste of you and the cake. — Lorelei James

Yes, the sky was now a devastating, home-cooked red. The small German town had been flung apart one more time. Snowflakes of ash fell so lovelily you were tempted to stretch out your tongue to catch them, taste them. Only, they would have scorched your lips. They would have cooked your mouth. — Markus Zusak

She could hold him close now, touch as she was touched. Taste as she was tasted. The pleasure filled her - the glide of his hands, the heat of his lips, the catch of his breath as they rolled together to find more. — Nora Roberts

He kissed him like a man starved, thrusting his tongue past his parted lips and drowning himself in the taste and feel of Paul after three weeks without him. — Kele Moon

Now that you offer me the platter,
Kitchen makes a wry face
Burning stove priorities in grudged flames,
Like the dissembling of prominent names,
Kitchen makes a wry face,
Now that you offer me the platter,
I render my nights insane
Like the murky hugs of a sweet pain,
I pierce my days with a blunt knife
Like the aftermath of a indelible strife,
I cajole my laughter to a calm silence
Like the death of a young boy, hence;
Now that you offer me the platter,
I place my hunger on my finger tips,
My taste in the credulousness of my lips,
I place my honour in the chocking sips,
Now that you offer me the platter.
The Harkening — Ashfaq Saraf

Tears ache in my throat and each time his lips caress mine I'm closer to the dam within me bursting open. He's undoing me, tearing out my demons with burning strokes of his lips and the salty taste of his mouth. In his arms, I'm changing, becoming anew. — Sarah Noffke

I lean in this time, and she doesn't turn away. It's cold, and our lips are dry, noses a little wet, foreheads sweaty beneath wool hats. I can't touch her face, even though I want to, because I'm wearing gloves. But God, when her lips come apart, everything turns warm and her sugar sweet breath is in my mouth, and I probably taste like hot dogs but I don't care. She kisses like a sweet devouring, and I don't know where to touch her because I want all of her. I want to touch her knees and hips and her stomach and her back and her everything, but we're encased in all these clothes, so we're just two marshmallows bumping against each other, and she smiles at me while still kissing because she knows how ridiculous it is, too. — John Green

I tasted the salt on my own lips, and the bitter taste of blood on his. It was a desperate kiss, the sort of kiss that marks a lovers' parting, a kiss of sorrow and regret and a kind of blind and wordless promise. I would have risen up when it was finished, but he held me close, his hand stroking my hair. "I'll hurt your chest," I protested, but he shook his head. "I am past pain," he lied, "and I've always had a fancy to die in my lover's arms. 'Tis most romantic. — Susanna Kearsley

They were kissing again, carefully at first, learning the shape and texture of each other's lips, testing the sharpness of the teeth behind them.
It's too fast, said a panicky voice in his mind. And too dangerous. He'll drink your juices, taste your brain, crack your soul open like an egg!
Hell, I think I want him to do all that. — Poppy Z. Brite

Stop making me fall in love with you."
I smile now, taking her face in my hands. "I'll never stop that, babe, ever." I kiss her slowly, until I can no longer taste the tears on her lips. Until she knows that she owns every part of me. Forever. — Jay McLean

I am like a little child naked in a strong wind. I have a fever, I shiver, I'm too hot or too cold. My lips retain the unusual fruity taste of your mouth, & the bitter taste of your saliva lingers on my tongue, making me find everything I eat bland, sickening since nothing is as good as your love. — Rachilde

Those who marry God can become domesticated too - it's just as hum-drum a marriage as all the others. The word Love means a formal touch of the lips as in the ceremony of the Mass, and Ave Maria like dearest is a phrase to open a letter. This marriage like the world's marriages was held together by habits and tastes shared in common between God and themselves - it was God's taste to be worshipped and their taste to worship, but only at stated hours like a suburban embrace on a Saturday night. — Graham Greene

(First Kiss)
"It's not that - " she turned to protest but stopped when he brushed the corner of her mouth with his thumb. Her gaze widened as he inspected it with a half-smile.
"A vestige of jam tart, I believe. But alas," he gave a helpless shrug. "I have no napkin." Before she realized what he was about, he brushed her lips in a feathery kiss, lingering at the corner of her mouth, where his tongue flicked out to taste her. The unexpectedness of it stunned her.
"Lord Hadley! Wh-what are you doing?"
"If you have to ask, I must be losing my touch. Perhaps I should try again? — Victoria Vane

Take me from this earth
an endless night-
this, the end of life.
From the dark I feel your lips
and taste your bloody kiss. — Anne Rice

He can still taste you on his lips, smell your scent in his memory, remember when you smiled just for him, and the thought of never having that again is ... harrowing. So, he's willing to hurt you because he's focusing on the pain to try to kill everything that you were to him ... so that he can survive it. — Amy A. Bartol

So she learned at the age of almost twenty-six how to kiss a lover. Such kisses involved tongues, lips, taste, feel, and soft, needy noises that had her pressing up into his body and wanting to consume him with her hands and her mouth. — Grace Burrowes

World was in the face of the beloved
,
but suddenly it poured out and was gone:
world is outside, world can not be grasped.
Why didn't I, from the full, beloved face
as I raised it to my lips, why didn't I drink
world, so near that I couldn't almost taste it?
Ah, I drank. Insatiably I drank.
But I was filled up also, with too much
world, and, drinking, I myself ran over. — Rainer Maria Rilke

He kept trying to come up with words to say, but his brain and mouth were having a disconnect. So he crashed his mouth down over hers. She made a little gasp noise, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss, taking her stolen breath in and letting himself get lost in the feel of her soft lips, the familiar taste of her tongue.
He was half tempted to take her right here in the back of the truck, despite all the people nearby
the horse trailer mostly hid them, after all.
There was a small whispering in the back of his mind that they were gonna make a mess of things, but with her draping her legs across his lap and her nails running over his back, he couldn't help thinking that
Well, actually it was more like he couldn't actually think at all. — Cindi Madsen

There was such a rush about me: wing, and tangled spray, and colors upon colors and shades of colors that were not colors at all but shifts of white and silver. If light like that were sound, it would sound like the sea on sand, and if my ears were eyes, they would see such a light.
I crouched there, gasping in the swirl of it, and a flood struck me, shallow and swift, turning up and outward like flower petals where it touched my knees, then soaking me to the waist in its bubble and crash. I pressed my knuckles to my eyes so they would open again. The sea on my lips with the taste of tears and the whole white night shouted and wept aloud. — Theodore Sturgeon

He was breathing a little faster himself, his heart pounding as he leaned in a tiny bit more. He hovered just shy of her lips before braving the final space between them and pressing his mouth to hers. He knew immediately from the first taste of her that one tiny kiss wasn't going to be enough. — Cat Johnson

Snowflakes of ash fell so lovelily you were tempted to stretch out your tongue to catch them, taste them. Only, they would have scorched your lips. They would have cooked your mouth. Clearly, — Markus Zusak

Taste this." Rick held out a wooden spoon smothered in sauce, cradling the underside with his free hand.

"That's heaven." Laney licked the spoon clean. "When I die, bury me in a vat of that." She kissed Rick on the lips and heaved the groceries onto the counter.

"I feel like I'll be too sad to cook that much, what with you dead and all." He turned back to the pot, stirring the sauce as gently as he'd handle a newborn baby. "Though if we have a little advance warning, I could stockpile it in the freezer."

"Absolutely. I'll do what I can to die a slow death." Laney smirked. "All in the name of the sauce, of course. — Emily Liebert

Don't talk to me like that," she squeaked. "Like what, baby? Talk like a man who appreciates what he sees? A man who remembers how it felt to kiss your full lips? To touch your body? I might have been drunk that night, but I've had years to remember. Years of lonely nights dreaming of your ivory skin against mine. The scent of you. The taste ... — Eve Langlais

You taste so sweet." The whispered words sent a shiver down her spine. Somehow, whenever she had imagined this intimacy with a man, she had thought of darkness and urgency and groping. She had not expected firelight and heat and this patient courting of her body. Jack's lips wandered in a velvet path from her throat to the sensitive opening of her ear, played lightly, and then Amanda jerked in surprise as she felt the tip of his tongue stroke along a tiny inner crevice.
"Jack," she whispered. "You don't have to play the lover for me. Truly... you are kind to pretend that I'm desirable, and you-"
She felt him smile against her ear. "You are an innocent, mhuirnin, if you think that a man's body reacts this way out of kindness. — Lisa Kleypas

She hated Mr. Meanie. But she'd gotten to know him and they'd reached an understanding of sorts. Now she was to have him for supper.
"Don't tell me you're feeling guilty?"
Breaking off a piece of the wing, she brought it to her lips and took a bite. It did taste good. Very good.
"I wonder if all grouchy males are this palatable."
Drew choked.
She looked up, tilting her head.
"Are you all right?"
He turned a dull red.
"Eat your supper, Connie. — Deeanne Gist

They don't want to know that you'll never eat birthday cake because you don't want to erase the magical taste of frosting on his lips. That you wake up ever day wondering why you got to live and he didn't. — Sarah Ockler

How lucky country children are in these natural delights that lie ready to their hand! Every season and every plant offers changing joys. As they meander along the lane that leads to our school all kinds of natural toys present themselves for their diversion. The seedpods of stitchwort hang ready for delightful popping between thumb and finger, and later the bladder campion offers a larger, if less crisp, globe to burst. In the autumn, acorns, beechnuts, and conkers bedizen their path, with all their manifold possibilities of fun. In the summer, there is an assortment of honeys to be sucked from bindweed flowers, held fragile and fragrant to hungry lips, and the tiny funnels of honeysuckle and clover blossoms to taste. — Miss Read

She looked beautiful and very innocent, her vibrant blue eyes wide with what he guessed was shock. Her cheeks were stained pink with more of the nerves she hadn't been able to hide during the ceremony. As for her rosy mouth, her lips were slightly parted and ripe for kissing.
'Mine,' he thought primitively. 'Mine to touch and taste and claim at my leisure. — Tracy Anne Warren

And what is love, Angel? What is love! he yelled. Is it a pressure inside that makes me want to scream when you do this? he palmed his chest roughly, Is it my body in constant chaos when you're around me? Is it murder in cold blood when I even think of you being with anybody but me! he roared. Or maybe it's not being able to think or speak when your life is in danger, or wanting to spend every second - of every - fucking day with you, wanting to never leave your side. Is that love? Is it, Isadore? He drew closer and hit his fist repeatedly against his chest. Is it pain so hard and heavy that I can't fucking breathe unless I smell you, touch you, taste you? His body heaved as his bright green gaze seared her heart. Because if it is, Angel...he held his lips together and shook his head slowly, then I am....slain with an eternal and violent love for you. — Lucian Bane

Caitlin." Hawkins touched her cheek. "That wasn't quite what I had in mind." "Oh, for heaven's sake," she burst out, "do you not see how silly you're being?" "It's only silly if you continue to shy from me like a maiden. You're the MacBride. You've done worse than kiss an Englishman." His hands held her fast at the arms, and he bent to whisper in her ear. "I won the forfeit." His breath caressed the curve of her ear. "I want to feel the fullness of your lips with my own. I want to slide them open with my tongue and taste the sweetness of your mouth. I want to feel your body pressed to - " Summoning the last of her composure, she said, "You've made your point." His hands lifted to her shoulders. "Well? I'm waiting. — Susan Wiggs

Anne Hathaway
The bed we loved in was a spinning world
of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas
where we would dive for pearls. My lover's words
were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses
on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme
to his, now echo, assonance; his touch
a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.
Some nights, I dreamed he'd written me, the bed
a page beneath his writer's hands. Romance
and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste.
In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on,
dribbling their prose. My living laughing love -
I hold him in the casket of my widow's head
as he held me upon that next best bed. — Carol Ann Duffy

Rhi looked out the windshield to the dark blue waters of the North Sea. "I can spot a liar easily, Ulrik."
"I've told you the truth."
"You've told me part of it."
"That's all there is."
She turned her head to him, and was surprised when he suddenly leaned over and kissed her. When he pulled back, she asked, "What was that for?"
"I've always wanted to know if your kiss would taste as spirited as your words, or as sweet as your walk."
"And?" she asked, unable to keep her curiosity at bay.
He licked his lips. "It's a wee bit of both."
"That's all you'll ever know," she said and teleported out. — Donna Grant

He smiled, setting his forehead to hers. "you are very bad for me. I am trying to turn over a new leaf
I am trying to be more gentlemanly."
"But what if I want you to stay a rake?" she teased, her fingers trailing down his neck and chest, fingering the buttons on his waistcoat. "A libertine, even?" she slipped one fastening from its seat and he grabbed her errant hand, bringing it to his lips for a swift kiss.
"Callie," he said, his voice thick with warning as she set her free hand to the second button on his coat.
"What if I want the rogue, Gabriel?" the question was soft and sweet.
"What are you saying?"
She kissed across the firm square line of his jaw and whispered to him, shyness in her shaking voice, "Take me to bed, Gabriel. Give me a taste of scandal. — Sarah MacLean

I've been dying to know," he said again, "how you taste."
Oh, hell. Her right hand grabbed the back of his head, and she yanked him down toward her.
Their mouths met. Open. Ready. Lips kissed. Tongues licked. And - damn!
Yes, she wanted.
The control she'd held so tightly began to crack. She jerked in her seat, struggling to press against him. He took her mouth. Tasted her. Tormented her. And she met him. No, she fought him, fought him for more. — Cynthia Eden

Reeve kissed like he was made for kissing her, as if he'd been custom-designed by the gods of kissing to touch her lips, and taste her mouth, and drown her in kisses as she'd always wanted. — Lauren Blakely

Queen Alyss, my guards have discovered something you should see."
Her face had relaxed at the sight of him, but her brow at once contracted, her lips thinned with tension.
We've found evidence of suspicious activity in the palace," he said.
What sort of activity?"
You might want to step this way and see for youself. I apologize in advance for you having to set foot in a gaurdsman's quaters."
He led her into his rooms. The boyish portrait of Sir Justice, the fire crystals in the hearth, the elegantly arrayed table: Alyss blinked in puzzlement.
What is all this?"
My best guess, You Majesty, is that it's breakfast, but I can't be sure until we taste it. — Frank Beddor

From the moment she'd first seen him in the Fontaine ballroom, she'd been lost. The passionate kiss a week later had destroyed her. Even now she could feel the heat of his expert lips against hers, and the remembrance of his taste made her mouth water. — Sylvia Day

I don't know how it happens. We move our faces at the same time, and then our lips are touching. I've lost my worries. Traded them in for the sun and the taste of his tongue and the thought that in sixty years we'll be ashes - we'll be tossed into the air and after a moment of weightlessness we'll be everywhere and nowhere. But for now there's quick breathing and the feeling like he has my heart in his palm as it beats outside my chest. — Lauren DeStefano

I seem to wish to have some importance
In the play of time. If not,
Then sad was my mother's pain, my breath, my bones,
My web of nerves, my wondering brain,
to be shaped and quickened with such anticipation
Only to feed the swamp of space.
What is deep, as love is deep, I'll have
Deeply. What is good, as love is good,
I'll have well. Then if time and space
Have any purpose, I shall belong to it.
If not, if all is a pretty fiction
To distract the cherubim and seraphim
Who so continually do cry, the least
I can do is to fill the curled shell of the world
With human deep-sea sound, and hold it to
The ear of God, until he has appetite
To taste our salt sorrow on his lips.
And so you see it might be better to die.
Though, on the other hand, I admit it might
Be immensely foolish. — Christopher Fry

Again, I whisper.
The corner of his mouth lifts, and then I kiss him. Not so gently this time. His hands drop from my face and grab my waist and pull me to him. A small soft groan excapes him, and that noise makes me feel absolutely crazy. I lose it. I wind my hands around his neck and kiss him without holding anything back. I can feel his heart thundering like mine, his breath coming faster, his arms tightening around me.
And then I can feel what he feels. He's waited for this moment. He loves how I feel in his arms. He loves the smell of my hair. He loves the way I looked at him just now, flushed and wanting more from him. He loves the color of my lips and now the taste of my mouth is making his knees feel weak and he doesn't want to seem weak in front of me. So i draw back, and his breath comes out in a rush. His arms drop away from me. — Cynthia Hand

Used well beyond her thirty years, a powerful weariness gnawed at her face this day. The taste of the land hung in her mouth, and worry lines etched deep ravines near the corners of her lips and eyes. Tall and thin, she wore her markings with a quiet dignity in much the way a soldier displays his bars. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
Texas."
The Taken, November 2010 — Mike Kearby

NO!" She shouted through my lips.
Jared caught her hands, then caught me against the wall before I could fall. I sagged, my body confused by the conflicting directions it was receiving.
"Mel? Mel!"
"What are you doing?"
He groaned in relief. "I knew you could do it! Ah Mel!"
He kissed her again, kissed the lips that she controlled, and we could both taste the tears that ran down his face.
She bit him.
Jared jumped back from both of us, and I slid to the floor, landing in a wilted heap.
He started laughing, "That's my girl. You still got her, Wanda?"
"Yes," I gasped.
What the hell, Wanda? She screeched at me.
Where have you been? Do you have any idea what I've been going through trying to find you?
Yeah, I can see that you were really suffering. — Stephenie Meyer

We kiss for a long time, a good long time. I don't even notice that it's cold and I forget to be afraid because that's just how good a kisser he is. His lips move above my lips. My lips ache for the touch of him, the softness of his skin. We keep kissing. My hands wrap themselves in his hair. His hand presses me close into him, as close as I can be against him, and he is solid, strong, amazing. My hands leave his hair and journey down to the sides of his face, still tingling.
"We should keep going," he says, voice gruff and husky again. I love when his voice sounds like that, deeper than normal. His lips puff out a little more, too. "You're blushing."
I pull my lips in against each other like I'm still trying to taste him. I move my snowshoes off of his snowshoes. It's tricky.
"You're a good kisser," I say.
"So are you. — Carrie Jones

No woman had ever made him feel so protective, yet so protected at the same time. He shifted his gaze to her lips. He had to taste them, had to claim them for his own right then, or his heart was going to jump right out of his chest and die on the floor at the ends of her cute little toes. — Carolyn Brown

We have heard enough about being practical and efficient and prudent. We heard it preached through several decades that these things would save the world. I think that, with the salty taste of blood and sweat on our lips, we are learning that we had best talk once again about doing what is right. — Ellis Arnall

Her taste still teased my tongue, and her touch tipped my fingers. Her smile licked my lips, and her heart beat my own. So I tugged on her sheets, like it was a cape. To me, she was a God damned super hero, and underneath, was everything I need. Her super powers on top of me. — J. Raymond

His lips quirked slightly when he noticed my incredulous expression. "I know I wouldn't. One taste of warm blood is never enough, Miss Wadsworth. — Kerri Maniscalco

Gussie is an orange-juice addict. He drinks nothing else.' 'I was not aware of that, sir.' 'I have it from his own lips. Whether from some hereditary taint, or because he promised his mother he wouldn't, or simply because he doesn't like the taste of the stuff, Gussie Fink-Nottle has never in the whole course of his career pushed so much as the simplest gin and tonic over the larynx — P.G. Wodehouse

Her six-year-old brain had lost her father at sweet and was still stuck trying to decipher lemonade.
"But lemon is pretty, Dad. It's yellow. Like sun."
Her father nodded, his lips curved up at the corners.
"Sun is pretty and it has a smiley face. Sun is not bad."
"No, I guess it's not." Her father chuckled.
"I love sun."
"Of course you do, sweetie-pie."
"So lemon is nice, too."
"I believe so, but some people don't like the taste. It's too sour, they say."
She looked back at her father and said with a tone that suggested what other people thought about lemon was crazy. "Then add sugar. No need to blame the lemon. — E. Mellyberry

It is not the taste considered in itself, that we hold to our lips, and you can no more understand the virtues of a wine through a blind tasting than you could understand the virtues of a woman through a blindfold kiss. — Roger Scruton

The taste of him exploded inside her mouth, filling her senses with an intoxicating warmth and aroma that had nothing to do with the amount of brandy he had consumed. He made sounds-rough, greedy, indistinct sounds that vibrated through her tissues, his lips and teeth and tongue consuming her with his passion. — Susan Napier

A milky pearl appeared at the tip of the fat mushroomed head and I licked my lips in anticipation. His groan pulled my attention to his face where he had his head tilted, staring down at me intently. His voice was shaky, almost hoarse as he spoke. "Lick it, Landon. I want you to learn what I taste like. — Annabella Michaels

In the orchard and rose garden I long to see your face. In the taste of Sweetness I long to kiss your lips. In the shadows of passion I long for your love. — Rumi

Lips that taste of tears, they say,
Are the best for kissing. — Dorothy Parker

My words are the kisses but many of the times they don't taste so good as the touch of your lips does to mine. — Santosh Kalwar

She who licks her lips knows the taste of her lover's desires — Nick Bantock

She is everything to me in life. Night after night I go to see her play. One evening she is Rosalind, and the next evening she is Imogen. I have seen her the in the gloom of an Italian tomb, sucking the poison from her lover's lips. I have watched her wandering through the forest of Arden, disguised as a pretty boy in hose and doublet and dainty cap. She has been mad, and has come into the presence of a guilty king, and given him rue to wear, and bitter herbs to taste of. She has been innocent, and the black hands of jealousy have crushed her reed-like throat. I have seen her in every age and in every costume. Ordinary women never appeal to one's imagination. They are limited to their century. No glamour ever transfigures them. One knows their minds as easily as one knows their bonnets. One can always find them. There is no mystery in any of them: — Oscar Wilde

Kenna wet her lips and swallowed hard. The off-white linen of Colum's tunic made his wide expanse of hard-muscled chest and squared shoulders look as though the man had been dipped in white chocolate. Damn, I love white chocolate. Kenna licked her lips again. But she'd bet her favorite nail polish that a taste of Colum would bean any chocolate she'd ever eaten. — Maeve Greyson

Although Genesis didn't deepen their kiss or steal his own taste, he did lick his own lips, taking the taste of Curtis off his lips and into his mouth. With their lips still barely touching, Genesis murmured, "You are a little bad boy, aren't you?" Genesis brought his hand up and brushed a lock of hair behind Curtis' ear. "A very pretty bad boy." Genesis gave him another soft kiss, and Curtis swore he was in heaven. "You said we're supposed to be good. You have to stop touching me like that." Curtis panted. "I don't know how," Genesis whispered almost painfully. Leaning back in and kissing Curtis again. "Well, like brother like brother, huh?" Day's sarcastic voice killed their moment as he sauntered into the room without knocking. "Better pull back, Casanova, 'my two dads' are right behind me." Genesis — A.E. Via

His thumb caressed the scarlet surface of her cheek. "From now on, Hannah, no matter what you say or do, I'm going to look at your mouth and remember how sweet you taste." A self-mocking smile curved his lips as he added quietly, "Damn it. — Lisa Kleypas

Time stopped and for a few blissful moments there was nothing except Connor, intoxicating and irresistible, the taste of him, the scent of him, the raw male power of his arms, and the tender seducing touch of his lips... And then I was out of the car and gone before the power of that kiss wore off. — Ilona Andrews

I thought it could be something, I mean, eventually." Harrison finally looks at us. "My life I thought-but I mean ... it's nothing."
"Don't cry" Grace says. "You have a lot of time."
"No, I don't."
"Yeah, you do."
"No.-"
"Yeah! Yeah, you do. It's okay. Look-"
She does something that is so amazingly selfless and also gross. She tilts Harrison's face up and gives him a sweet kiss on the lips and it lasts long enough for him to taste her back, to move his mouth against hers.
Harrison stares at her dumbfounded but he's stopped crying
She is so nice. — Courtney Summers

A fly sneaks into the heavy hush of the room. Lands on the man's forehead. Hesitant. Uncertain. Wanders over his wrinkles, licks his skin. No taste. Definitely no taste. The fly makes its way down into the corner of his eye. Still hesitant. Still uncertain. It tastes the white of the eye, then moves off. It isn't chased away. It resumes its journey, getting lost in the beard, climbing the nose. Takes flight. Explores the body. Returns. Settles once more on the face. Clambers onto the tube stuffed into the half-open mouth. Licks it, moves right along it to the edge of the lips. No spit. No taste. The fly continues, enters the mouth. And is engulfed. — Atiq Rahimi

He had won. He could release her at any time. But her lips... those soft, sweet petals were parting tremulously at the touch of his tongue, and she was granting him entry to the warmth of her mouth. He thrust boldly inside, wanting but one taste of her. Only one. — Shelly Thacker

The taste of your life depends on the spices you used to brew it. Add laziness to it and it becomes bitter as the bile; put a cube of good attitudes into it and you will lick your lips more and more due to its sweet taste. — Israelmore Ayivor

I want to tell her not to speak, want to say it, but her lips are on mine again and I taste me and I taste her and I don't taste what we're saying and I don't taste Noah. I taste Camus - I owe to such evenings the idea I have of innocence. — Hannah Moskowitz

Your lips are bitter-sweet with the taste of my wine of pain. — Rabindranath Tagore

He should stop, but the intoxicating sensation of Eliza's hot breath on Thomas's face dominated him and he could think of nothing else. Nothing but kissing her. The world around him stopped and he moved both hands to cup her smooth cheeks as he continued to taste her lips. She pressed into his kiss, moving her own delicate hands to his face. Sampling the sweetness her mouth was the biggest mistake he'd ever made. Just one would never be enough. Reluctant, — Amber Lynn Perry

It was at first almost as if he hadn't wanted to kiss her. His mouth was hard on hers, unyielding; then he put both arms around her and pulled her against him. His lips softened. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, taste the sweetness of apples still on his mouth. She wound her hands into his hair, as she'd wanted to do since the first time she'd seen him. His hair curled around her fingers, silky and fine. Her heart was hammering, and there was a rushing sound in her ears, like beating wings — Cassandra Clare

Though I love you to the core of my being, so thoroughly that every cell comprising me aches to be near you, I must accept that we can never be together. For our existence parallels the sun and the moon - a temptation in constant, beautiful view, yet if the sun were ever to kiss the moon it would devour the heavenly orb whole. Oh, my darling, if only I were the moon! Then I would dare taste your lips and be happy for my last and final joy! But alas, I am the sun, and I will not venture to destroy the one I love. — Richelle E. Goodrich

I kissed him that day, his lips warm and soft across my mouth. The taste of his kiss forever scarred on my lips, lips that have longed for him. — Jay McLean

Despite all the commotion, and to Calla's surprise, Guthrie kissed her. His lips were warm and masculine and tasted like wassail. Cinnamon, apple cider, and oranges. She licked his mouth to enjoy more of the taste and he licked hers back, smiling. then he deepened the kiss.
Oh my God! She hadn't felt this naughty in forever! The men were going to move the tree soon, and here she and Guthrie would be. Kissing. In front of several members of his pack. She pushed her arms through the branches, trying to wrap them around his neck. She tangled her tongue with his, his cock hardening against her belly, and she felt deliciously wicked hidden beneath the half-decorated tree. — Terry Spear