Thigh And Hip Quotes & Sayings

The guilt over his secret was eating him up alive, but hell, the feel of her in his arms threatened to override all of it. This was Maria, the woman he'd fantasized about for almost a decade. In his arms.
He shifted again and tried to pull his hips back, but Maria snuggled tighter against him, hooking one leg over his hip.
Fuck.
Yeah, he had to get out of here. It was still dark outside, so maybe he could salvage a few hours and get some rest in his own bed. She'd just asked him to stay until she fell asleep. Which he'd done. Now it was time to relocate.
Slowly he reached back and lightly grasped her wrist, moving her hand so that she wasn't wrapping her arm around him. Next, he tried to do the same with her leg. Grasping her silky-smooth thigh, he froze when she let out a tiny moan in her sleep. And when she practically ground against him, he groaned.
Couldn't help it. She felt so good the sound just escaped - and woke her up. — Katie Reus

Cooking is the transformation of uncertainty (the recipe) into certainty (the dish) via fuss. — Julian Barnes

God took Day's hand from his hip and the other that was digging into his side; grasping them both he pulled them high over his head and pressed them into the pillows, securing them there with one hand. God was shocked by his own self-control, but he refused to hurt his lover. Half of his cock that was inside Day and God slowly rocked back and forth trying to open him up a little more. "Come on, sweetheart. You can do it. Open up, take all of me," God whispered. He concentrated on breathing and not shooting his load before he got all the way in. Day's erection was gone, his cock lying against his left thigh. Fuck. He had to make this good for him. "Breathe, Leo, and push out against me," he instructed. Beads — A.E. Via

An erring colleague is not an Amalkite to be smitten hip and thigh. — R. H. Tawney

Yeah loads of bruises and welts, usually around the hip, arse, thigh region and elbows. Elbows got knocked up big time, but it was so much fun. I hadn't done a meaty action film in seven or eight years, so it was fun to explore that aspect of storytelling again. — Colin Farrell

I have a stab wound on my left hip and one on my thigh and a slash mark across my right calf. I have a bottle stab wound on my left calf. — Jonah Lomu

Are you decent?" a woman's voice called, pushing the door cautiously ajar.
"Nay, but we're clothed," Cian purred. — Karen Marie Moning

I am the dangerous daughter, thigh-stroking, soft-tongued lover, the pit, the well, and the well of horniness, laughter rolling up out of me like gravy boiling over the edge of a pan. I become the romantic, the mystic, the one without shame, rocking myself on the hip of a rock, a woman as sharp as coral. I make in my mind the muscle that endures, tame rage and hunger to spirit and blood. I become the rock. I become the knife. I am myself the mystery. The me that will be waits for me. If I cannot dream myself new, how will I find my true self? — Dorothy Allison

Contrary to popular wisdom, bullies are rarely cowards.
Bullies come in various shapes and sizes. Observe yours. Gather intelligence.
Shunning one hopeless battle is not an act of cowardice.
Hankering for security or popularity makes you weak and vulnerable.
Which is worse: Scorn earned by informers? Misery endured by victims?
The brutal May have been molded by a brutality you cannot exceed.
Let guile be your ally.
Respect earned by integrity cannot be lost without your consent.
Don't laugh at what you don't find funny.
Don't support an opinion you don't hold.
The independent befriend the independent.
Adolescence dies in its fourth year. You live to be eighty. — David Mitchell

Once I slapped a rapper with mace,
Then I spit acid in his face, after he rinsed his eyes, no wait ...
I actually grew five times my size, grabbed Ma$e by the thigh and slapped a rapper with him. — Pharoahe Monch

Were I forced to describe this woman in one word, that word would be ... herpes. — Jen Lancaster

Lonely? Give it to Jesus. The loneliness itself is material for sacrifice. — Elisabeth Elliot

Ellen?" Val knelt to peer up at her where she sat. "Shall I leave?" He put a hand on her knee then slid it up to her hip, holding her gaze as he did. She laid her fingers over the back of his debilitated left hand. They'd been heading for this moment for weeks, but now that it was upon her, she looked not just surprised but stunned. "I'll leave," Val said, settling back onto his heels and resting his cheek against her thigh. "If you ask it of me, I'll get up and see about your locks, share a cup of cider and an apple tart, ask you your plans for the week, and understand." "Understand?" He brought his other hand around her waist and held on, knee-walking in close to hug her middle on a sigh. "Now — Grace Burrowes

Before I can respond, Nash continues. "Or was I there, too?" He brushes his lips over mine. "Did you think of my lips when he kissed you?" Light as a feather, he runs his hand down the outside of my thigh and back up again, squeezing my hip. "Did you wish it was me touching you? Like I did the night I came to your room?"
I start to lean back and speak, but his lips take mine, quickly coaxing them apart. Sensation drowns out thought as I feel him breathe into my mouth. "Do you still want me? Because if you do, I'm all yours. — M. Leighton

He'd also gotten close to Prophet, moving next to him to get the right angle on the cast, his hip brushing Prophet's cock. And now his own had a more pressing need than covering up phone numbers. The light dappled across Prophet's face. He looked more relaxed, less on guard than he'd ever been. But somehow still lethal. Always lethal. Prophet turned onto his back, arms over his head again, casts sprawled on the pillow. Tom's erection nudged Prophet's thigh as he thought about Prophet tied up, and Prophet shook his head. "Did you take Viagra instead of migraine meds?" "Maybe," Tom murmured, wrapped a hand around Prophet's cock, which was hard again too. — S.E. Jakes

I'd like to study the drawings of kids. That's where the truth is, without a doubt. — Andre Derain

Verily I say unto you," Stuart said, looking Cyril straight in the eye and folding his arms, "that if you do not mind your sister Millie, you will be smitten both hip and thigh — Martha Finley

I should have left yesterday before I found out how hot you run. But I didn't. And now I'm fucked." One hand dropped from the wall to grip the side of her hip, squeezing and releasing. "That exquisite body of yours needs a lot of care and attention. I didn't even get a chance to use my tongue on you. I hate not knowing how you taste."

Her head dropped back against the door. When his hand slipped under her dress to run up the outside of her thigh, a moan escaped her lips. Unconsciously, she thrust her breasts upward, in the direction of his mouth.

"Yes, I see them, baby. I'd taste you there, too." Slowly, his hand slid around toward the juncture between her thighs. "You came so quickly for me yesterday, like something out of a fantasy. Were you neglected here?" He ran a knuckle along the seam of her panties. "I know how to make it better. — Tessa Bailey

A few words which he wanted to emphasize were put into brackets or set off by quotation marks. My first impulse was to point out to him that it was ridiculous to put slang words and expressions between quotation marks, for that prevents them from entering the language. But I decided not to. When I received his letters, his parentheses made me shudder. At first, it was a shudder of slight shame, disagreeable. Later (and now, when I reread them) the shudder was the same, but I know, by some indefinable, imperceptible change, that it is a shudder of love- it is both poignant and delightful, perhaps because of the memory of the word shame that accompanied it in the beginning. Those parentheses and quotation marks are the flaw on the hip, the beauty mark on the thigh whereby my friend showed that he was himself, irreplaceable, and that he was wounded. — Jean Genet

Boys are just boys after all, but sometimes girls really seem to be the turn of a pale wrist, or the sudden jut of a hip, or a clutch of very dark hair falling across a freckled forehead. I'm not saying that's what they really are. I'm just saying sometimes it seems that way, and that those details (a thigh mole, a full face flush, a scar the precise shape and size of a cashew nut) are so many hooks waiting to land you. — Zadie Smith

If a man smite you on one cheek, smash him down; smite him hip and thigh, for self-preservation is the highest law. — Ragnar Redbeard

Your mother's coming," he said.
"I know - she probably heard us arguing. Do something!"
"What?"
"Anything!"
"Fine!" He grabbed her around the waist, dragged her body flush against his, and ducked his head. His lips crushed hers as his hands wrapped around her tightly so they were plastered against each other, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, breasts to chest. — Jennifer Probst

Much testing, much reflecting, much living must intervene before we can say, 'My soul is my own. — Madonna Kolbenschlag

We are not so different, you and I," she said as if she was inside my thoughts. "We are flesh," she ran her finger down the center of my chest and circled around my breasts, "and bone," her hand traced a path down my abdomen and over the crest of my hip and down my thigh, "fire," her hand swept up my body and pressed against my beating heart, "and water," her hand trailed down and between my legs... — Giselle Fox

Beethoven can't really be great because his picture isn't on a bubble gum card. — Charles M. Schulz