Dirty Valentine Quotes

They'll say you are bad or perhaps you are mad or at least you should stay undercover. Your mind must be bare if you would dare to think you can love more than one lover.

I could do things to your body that most women only dream about while reading their dirty romance novels, and I promise you’d fucking enjoy it.

I love the saying “Nobody likes a dirty old man or a clean little boy.

You say the sweetest things, but you’ve always been the dirtier fighter of the two of us.” “I’m not fighting dirty when it’s the truth.” In the spirit of honesty and generally pushing my luck, I add, “If the roles were reversed right now, would you fight for us? Would you let me go?” A sigh of resignation fills the car, followed by his very telling silence. “Well?” I press. “No,” he says. “You know damn well I wouldn’t let you go.

Look in my eyes. Can anyone else fuck you like this?” I stared at him, marveling at the intensity of his gaze as he pistoned into me harder than I thought possible. Every impact jarred me and gave me so much pleasure I was panting. His thumb on my clit was working me into a frenzy. “No,” I breathed. “Can any other man give you what you need?” “No. Only you.” “Damn right. I’m going to come so deep inside you, wildcat. Mark my goddamn territory.” He nipped at my jaw before kissing to my neck and sucking my skin between his teeth.

Tis the season, you lot. Cheer up. At least the man can change a dirty nappy. If he and Sophie have anticipated their vows, he’ll need to be handy in the nursery. Now, shall I beat you at cribbage seriatim or both at the same time?” “And what if there are to be no vows?” St. Just asked. Valentine answered as he crossed his knife and fork very precisely across his plate. “Then he’ll need to learn how to disappear from Sophie’s life and never show his miserable face in the shire again. We won’t have him trifling with her.” Westhaven resumed his place at the table. “But his family seat is in Kent,” St. Just said. “He can’t very well avoid that for the rest of his life, particularly not after he inherits.” Westhaven smiled, not a particularly pleasant smile. “Exactly so. Valentine, fetch the cards; St. Just, we’ll need decent libation. As I see it, we really don’t have very many options.

The baby chose that moment to toddle forth on his hands and knees, squealing with glee when he’d covered the two feet between Sophie’s side and St. Just’s boots. “A headlong charge into enemy territory can see a fellow taken prisoner.” St. Just lifted the baby under the arms and brought the child up to face level. Kit grinned, swiped at St. Just’s nose, and emitted such sounds as to establish beyond doubt that a certain fellow’s nappy was thoroughly soiled. “Gah!” “Gah, indeed.” St. Just kept the child at arm’s length. “Westhaven, you have a son. I nominate you.” “Valentine needs the practice.” Vim took the baby from St. Just’s grasp and headed for the laundry. As he left the parlor, he heard Lord Valentine softly observe, “You know, Soph, most men with any backbone can calmly accept the threat of a duel to preserve a lady’s honor, but it’s a brave man indeed who can deal with a dirty nappy without even being asked.” “Your timing is deplorable,” Vim told the malodorous, grinning baby. “But I think you’ve given Sophie’s brothers their first reason to pause before they call me out.” “Bah!” ***

And then he kissed me. I’ve been kissed before—plenty of times—some good, some bad, but I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed quite like how Ben kissed me. I’ve had other girls tell me that sometimes, when the right man kisses them, it’s like the entire world disappears and it’s just the two of them—connected by some sort of pseudo-magical connection. Like fairytale perfection from some childhood tale. There was nothing childlike, nor innocent about the way Ben kissed me. When our lips met, when our tongues tangled, it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It wasn’t a kiss—it was a promise, a promise which suggested that if I let him into my bed, there’d be indentations in my four-poster from the ties he’d use to fasten me there...

And then he kissed me. I’ve been kissed before—plenty of times—some good, some bad, but I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed quite like how Ben kissed me. I’ve had other girls tell me that sometimes, when the right man kisses them, it’s like the entire world disappears and it’s just the two of them—connected by some sort of pseudo-magical connection. Like fairytale perfection from some childhood tale. There was nothing childlike, nor innocent about the way Ben kissed me. When our lips met, when our tongues tangled, it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It wasn’t a kiss—it was a promise, a promise which suggested that if I let him into my bed, there’d be indentations in my four-poster from the ties he’d use to fasten me there...

Her cell phone buzzed loudly in her purse. She saw that it was Christian and answered. “You couldn’t at least send me a metrosexual to work with?” he asked. She grinned at that. “How did the shopping go with Nick?” “We survived. That’s about all I can say. You should’ve seen his expression when he saw the colors of the ties I’d pulled to go with the suit. He told me that where he comes from, men don’t do boysenberry. I shudder to think such a place exists.” “Boysenberry? You are lucky you survived. Thanks, Christian. I appreciate your help.” Jordan made a mental note to send him a bottle of wine from the store. “Feel free to send me all the suit-buying customers you want. And I think you’ll be pleased with the results.” His tone turned sly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jordan. I have a feeling it’s going to be a good one for you.” Right, she thought as she hung up the phone. Because Nick was her date. And of course any woman spending Valentine’s Day with a date who looked like Nick was guaranteed a night of endless great sex. Hot, scruffy-jawed, throw-me-down-on-the-table, mindblowing sex. Probably with dirty words. Perhaps not a horrible way to spend Valentine’s Day, she conceded. But it wasn’t in the cards for her

I hit the strings with a pick he pulled from his jeans, a perfect blasting E chord that made the walls shake. The sound was raw and dirty and loud. It eclipsed every bad thing that had ever happened to me, things forgotten and pushed away, every sad, hurtful betrayal nuked by the grit of circuits, pickups, and tubes. It was the most empowering thing I had done in my entire life. From that moment, I knew.

Trust me, Sunshine, not everyone’s darkness can be seen on the exterior. Those of us who have it in us get very good at burying it and putting on a show good enough to keep society fooled that we’re okay. But someone who knows a truly fucked-up person is subject to the worst part of them. They experience the darkness with them, and that shit can scar a person. It would send a sweet thing like you running for the fucking hills.

Drunk Jonah is my favorite fuck toy,” I say against his lips. “Drunk Jonah fucks like a whore, with no inhibitions. He’s a dirty, dirty boy.