I will not be threatened. Do you understand me?’ He leaned closer again, his lips less than a couple of inches from hers. ‘Now try saying it without trembling.
I'll just stay ten feet away from him at all times so I don't accidentally trip and fall and land lips first on his mouth.
It may be small comfort, but I believe Rafe doesn't want to kill you." A light laugh escaped her lips. "Actually, that is a substantial comfort.
The cut under his eye and the split skin on his lower lip only enhanced his profile. He didn’t look defeated. He looked like a fighter. A champion.
Pink, You are gentle and sweet just like this rose. When your rose pink lips smiled at me that first time I remembered how to smile. ~Riley
I thought if you knew. you'd kill him. I nearly did. I nearly killed you too. The trouble with death is - his lips twisted - it's so final.
And her lips: so inviting, bathed in shimmering wet, dark red gloss. They were meant for only two things, kissing and making love to your cock.
I touch the tip of my finger to his lips. "There are secrets in here," I say. "I want them out." He tries to bite my finger. I steal it back.
You know the kind of smile I’m talkin’ about. That flirty, cute, bite-your-bottom lip ‘cause his smile is so stinkin’ perfect—that kind of smile.
Jane! will you hear reason?' (he stooped and approached his lips to my ear) 'because, if you won't, I'll try violence.
Oh you two look delicious," Bast said, licking her lips. "No, no-er, I mean wonderful. Now, off you go!
Lose myself in your blueberry eyes Magnolia, kiss your mauve lips of grapes, squeeze your fleshy, milky macaroon breasts,smell your opium breath of subconsciousness, labyrinth of desires.
As Wendy watched them they burst into a chord of tinkling, girlish laughter. She felt a smile touch her own lips; not one of them could be under sixty.
She sealed his lips with a wanton kiss; 'Though I forgive your breaking your vows to heaven, I expect you to keep your vows to me.
There is nothing I detest so much as the contortions of these great time-and-lip servers, these affable dispensers of meaningless embraces, these obliging utterers of empty words, who view every one in civilities
You’re like this frosting.” She swiped another swirl of it on her finger, stood and leaned forward to touch it to his bottom lip. “Pretty, momentarily pleasurable, but with no real substance or sustenance.
[Y]ou, one day, will knock lips with Turkish-coffee-clad veils whose beds our kin must tuck in misty-eyed.
A watched pot never boils, but if I took my eyes from these negative thoughts for a second they would spill over the edges of my lips, and boil the beautiful moment alive as we lived it.
You are like the kid who even cannot understand the different between a kiss on the cheek and a kiss on the lips; simple and devoted unlike the rest of the world.
He was possessed now with that obsession for the cross in which so many lips have worn themselves away on crucifixes.
When he kissed me, his lips soft and careful, it was all the thrill of our first kiss and all the practiced familiarity of the accumulated memory of all our kisses.
