Sabrina Tights Quotes

Ever feel like the land is swallowing you whole, Sierra? That all of this beauty is wrapped around you so tight it's like being in a rattlesnakes mouth?" ..... My mother gives me a glance. "You will someday. Maybe it'll come later for you than it did for me. Children tend to do that. Marriage. Life. All these things.

Ever feel like the land is swallowing you whole, Sierra? That all of this beauty is wrapped around you so tight it's like being in a rattlesnake's mouth?

I don't force women to my bed, Danica." I shivered. Something about going back to the use of my full name had my skin tight, my breath bated at the sight of his feral grin. "They come willingly, and begging." "And is that something you want?" I was playing a dangerous game, egging on an actual dragon. A lesser shifter would have pounced on the teasing, the taunting between us, long ago. Not Ryker; he had all the time and patience in the world to play the games I'd been playing with him. "I can unveil the mark tonight if you want, but we both know it's already there between us. Everything after that can come as slowly as you need it to; in the end I already know you'll find your way to me as it was intended. I offer you my everything, Dani. My wings, my strength, my soul." He leaned down, his lips pulled into an amused curve as he rumbled in my ear. "My cock, if you think you're ready to cross that line and have me fuck you until you forget your own name.

Fangs grew, eyes blazed, claws and scales and burning rage ripped through me. The burning shift in my frame strained, grew, roared to life in my too-tight skin until everything was covered in hard scales. Vampires and fae alike scattered in my shadow. I guess they hadn't told all the fae of what I was. But it didn't matter because my focus lay entirely on the death-and-flesh scent of more powerful vampires just out of sight. I roared, shaking the very skies. I'm ready, fuckers. Come at me.

Forgive me,” he said tightly. “That was uncalled for.” “It certainly was,” Maria said. “She was saying nice things about you.” His gaze shot to her. “She was pointing out, yet again, how I’ve failed my family.” “If you don’t like it,” Maria countered, “why don’t you stop failing them?” “Touche, Maria,” Minerva said softly. Gritting his teeth, Oliver turned his gaze out the window, no doubt wishing he could be well away from them all. And as he retreated into himself, Minerva began to tell one story after another about Oliver as a boy. Maria didn’t want to be enchanted by them, but she couldn’t help herself. She laughed at the tale of how he’d fallen into the pond in front of Halstead Hall while trying to “charm” fish into the boat the way Indians charmed snakes out of their baskets. She tried not to laugh at the one where he coaxed Gabe into sharing Gabe’s piece of cake by claiming that it might have been poisoned, requiring Oliver to “taste it and make sure it was safe.” But the tale about some lad pulling five-year-old Minerva’s hair, and Oliver jumping to her rescue by punching Minerva’s attacker, made Maria want to cry. The Oliver who’d defended his sister still existed-she glimpsed him from time to time. So where had the other, carefree Oliver gone? His siblings didn’t seem nearly as bitter over the tragedy of their parents’ deaths as he. Was it simply because he’d been older? Or did something else about it plague him?

Wings. Ryker had fucking wings. Big leathery wings like a bat but with a deep gray-green coloring. I fell backwards onto the floor of the loft, my ass hitting the wood but my eyes staying locked on Ryker. A comment from my second day here surfaced. Something about not wearing shirts because they got in the way. No fucking wonder they got in the way if he could pop out a pair of wings. The thin membrane that stretched to allow light through it was a lighter, paler gray than the rest, snagging on whatever breeze the morning brought with it and tempting Ryker to open them up wider to catch the wind. They were big enough to that he'd have to duck down quite a bit to even attempt entering the doorway of the cabin, even if he had them tucked in tight to his back.

I pushed forward suddenly, the head of his cock teasing my entrance open in bliss. But a sudden jerk from Ryker left me painfully empty once more, and I whined in frustration. "Just say it," he teased. "Do you like it a little rough? All you have to do is say yes." Fine. Ass. "Yes," I hissed. "Yes, I do." Instant pressure hit me as he slid his length into me in one go. I was so wet, there was no friction stopping him as he filled me completely. Tight, hot, hard. I took in a sharp breath and he gave me a satisfied hum. "There now, that wasn't so hard," he mused. Smack. Ryker shoved into me just a little harder at the same time he smacked me right on the mark, and I screamed. I was so hot, and wet, and full of him that I could hardly keep myself from unraveling. Thankfully, his hands stayed firmly in place, helping to hold me still as he slid out again, only to thrust inside once more. "Fuck, Danica," Ryker rumbled. "Your pretty little ass is turning the hottest shade of pink." I was breathless as Ryker thrust again and again, pushing me higher and higher. Sometimes he would smack the mark again, and I was sure I would be feeling it in the morning but I couldn't bring myself to care. All I could care about was Ryker and what he did to me. I felt wholly and truly right with him, and my head was in a fog as the orgasm hit me hard. "Ryker!" I shouted as he thrust at just the right moment and all the tight muscles in my body came loose. Floating, floating and falling and clenching and dropping into a boneless heap. I was still reeling from the high he had started in me when I felt his hot release as well. Ryker came hard, gripping my hip as he shoved in as deep as he could. The hot, burning stretch of him shoving so hard coupled with the intensity of my own postorgasm shaking pulled another cry from me. When we were both spent and he was still over me, staring down in satisfied confidence, he leaned in with a light kiss. "Good girl, you take me so fucking well." My ass stung, I was filled to the brim, and I liked it. Releasing my hip, he slid out of me and I groaned at the fleeting feeling of fullness. When wetness trickled out of me, more than just my own arousal, I pressed my thighs together.

You see, Lady Celia?" he said in his harsh rasp. "A man can do anything he wants if he has a woman alone." Her pleasure died instantly. Had this just been about teaching her a lesson? Anger roared up in her. How dare he? Remembering the pistol, she shoved it up under his chin and cocked the hammer. "And if he does, the woman has a right to defend herself. Don't you agree?" The surprise on his face was immensely gratifying, but it didn't last long. Eyes narrowing, he leaned closer to hiss, "Go ahead then. Fire." She swallowed. Though there was no ball, the powder alone would do serious damage. She could never... While she hesitated, he removed the pistol from her numb fingers. His glittering gaze bore into her. "Never brandish a gun unless you're prepared to use it." She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly exposed. "Most men would be cowed by the very sight of a pistol," she muttered. "I wasn't." "You're not most men," she said tightly. He acknowledged that with a curt nod. Then he walked over to one of the pots, aimed down at the dirt, and fired. When the smoke cleared from the muzzle flash, he noted the lack of a hole in the dirt and faced her. "Powder." He glared at her. "Did it occur to you that unless you fired at point-blank range, you might merely anger the man you're aiming for?" "I only need it for men who get close to me," she bit out. "All the same, the next time you need to protect yourself, forget the pistol and bring your knee up between the man's legs as hard as you can. It'll make your point just as effectively and give you plenty of time to escape." Color flooded her cheeks. Since she had brothers, she knew what he meant, but it wasn't something she would ever have thought to do. A pity, for it would have served her well with Ned. "Why are you telling me this?" "I want you to know how to defend yourself if someone's taking liberties." "Even if the someone is you?" A strange light glinted in his eyes as he pocketed her pistol. "Especially if it's me." What did he mean by that? "Mr. Pinter, about our kiss..." "I was making a point," he said tersely. "Nothing more. Complain to your brothers about it and get me dismissed if you must, but don't worry-regardless of what you do, it won't happen again.

I need you to say it." Ryker's hot breath was on my neck, his hand on my hip, and he was ready to sink into me the second he got his answer. All I had to do was admit it. Or I could try to take matters into my own hands just to fuck with him. I pushed forward suddenly, the head of his cock teasing my entrance open in bliss. But a sudden jerk from Ryker left me painfully empty once more, and I whined in frustration. "Just say it," he teased. "Do you like it a little rough? All you have to do is say yes." Fine. Ass. "Yes," I hissed. "Yes, I do." Instant pressure hit me as he slid his length into me in one go. I was so wet, there was no friction stopping him as he filled me completely. Tight, hot, hard. I took in a sharp breath and he gave me a satisfied hum. "There now, that wasn't so hard," he mused. Smack. Ryker shoved into me just a little harder at the same time he smacked me right on the mark, and I screamed. I was so hot, and wet, and full of him that I could hardly keep myself from unraveling. Thankfully, his hands stayed firmly in place, helping to hold me still as he slid out again, only to thrust inside once more. "Fuck, Danica," Ryker rumbled. "Your pretty little ass is turning the hottest shade of pink." I was breathless as Ryker thrust again and again, pushing me higher and higher. Sometimes he would smack the mark again, and I was sure I would be feeling it in the morning but I couldn't bring myself to care. All I could care about was Ryker and what he did to me. I felt wholly and truly right with him, and my head was in a fog as the orgasm hit me hard. "Ryker!" I shouted as he thrust at just the right moment and all the tight muscles in my body came loose. Floating, floating and falling and clenching and dropping into a boneless heap. I was still reeling from the high he had started in me when I felt his hot release as well. Ryker came hard, gripping my hip as he shoved in as deep as he could. The hot, burning stretch of him shoving so hard coupled with the intensity of my own postorgasm shaking pulled another cry from me. When we were both spent and he was still over me, staring down in satisfied confidence, he leaned in with a light kiss. "Good girl, you take me so fucking well." My ass stung, I was filled to the brim, and I liked it. Releasing my hip, he slid out of me and I groaned at the fleeting feeling of fullness. When wetness trickled out of me, more than just my own arousal, I pressed my thighs together.

You look like a goddess,” he murmured as he raked his eyes down her form. And she melted into a puddle. “Thank you.” She tried to sound cool and sophisticated. “I much prefer wearing a gown that’s not too tight.” “Except where it should be.” He dropped his gaze pointedly to her bosom. The frank admiration in his eyes made her glad that she’d let Betty guide her choice for tonight. After that other scandalous gown, she’d been reluctant to wear anything low cut, but this one did look beautiful on her, even with its décolletage. Salmon had always been a good color for her, and the satin rouleaux trim made her feel pretty and elegant. “So it’s presentable enough for dinner with your family?” she asked. “They don’t even deserve to see you in it.” The low rumble of his voice made her breath catch in her throat. “I only wish that you and I could-“ “You do look lovely,” said another voice. Lord Gabriel came up from behind Oliver, dressed all in black as usual. A look of pure mischief crossed his face. “Sorry I’m late, Miss Butterfield, but thank you, brother, for keeping her company until I arrived.” Oliver glared at him. “What the devil do you mean?” “I’m taking the young lady down to dinner.” “That office should be left to her fiancé, don’t you think?” Oliver bit out. “Pretend fiancé. You have no real claim on her. And since you had her to yourself all day…” Lord Gabriel offered his arm. “Shall we, Miss Butterfield?” Maria hesitated, unsure what to do. But Oliver was a danger to her sanity, and his brother wasn’t. So she was better off with Lord Gabriel. “Thank you, sir,” she said, taking his arm. “Now just wait one blasted minute. You can’t-“ “What? Be friendly to our guest?” Lord Gabriel asked, his face a mask of innocence. “Really, old boy, I didn’t realize it mattered that much. But if it upsets you to see Miss Butterfield on the arm of another man, I’ll certainly yield the field.” Lord Gabriel’s words seemed to give Oliver pause. Glancing from Maria to his brother, he smiled, though it didn’t nearly reach his eyes. “No, it’s fine,” he said tightly. “Perfectly fine.” When they headed down the hall with Oliver following behind, Lord Gabriel flashed her a conspiratorial glance. She wasn’t sure what the conspiracy was, but since it seemed to irritate Oliver, she went along. The incident was only the first in a series that continued throughout the week. Whenever she and Oliver found themselves alone, even for a moment, one of his siblings popped up to offer some entertainment-a stroll in the gardens, a ride into Ealing, a game of loo. With each instance, Oliver grew more annoyed, for no reason that she could see. Unless… No, that was crazy.

It’s no wonder your grandmother despairs of you. God only knows what a trial you are to your poor parents.” The humor vanished abruptly from his face. “Sadly, my parents are too dead to be overly concerned about my behavior.” His words were flip, but the sudden glint of grief in his eyes told another tale. “Please forgive me,” she said hastily, cursing her quick tongue. “It’s awful to lose your parents. I know that better than anyone.” “No need for apologies.” He pushed away from the door. “They despaired of me long before they died, so you weren’t far off the mark.” “Still, it was very wrong of me to-“ “Come now, Miss Butterfield, this has naught to do with my proposal. Will you pretend to be my fiancée or not?” When she hesitated, he went on with a hint of anger, “I don’t see why you make such a fuss over it. It’s not as if I’m asking you to do anything wicked.” That ridiculous remark banished her brief moment of sympathy. “You’re asking me to lie! To deceive a woman for the sake of your purpose, whatever that is. It goes against every moral principle-“ “And threatening to stab a man does not?” He cast her a thin smile. “Think of it as playing a role, like an actress. You and your cousin will be guests at my estate for a week or two, entirely at your leisure.” A dark gleam shone in his eyes. “I can even set up an effigy of myself for you to stab at will.” “That does sound tempting,” she shot back. “As for Freddy there, he can ride and hunt and play cards with my brothers. It’s better entertainment than he’d find in the gaol.” “As long as you feed me, sir,” Freddy said, “I’ll follow you anywhere.” “Freddy!” Maria cried. “What? That blasted inn where we’re staying is flea-ridden and cold as a witch’s tit. Plus, you keep such tight hold on my purse strings that I’m famished all the time. What’s wrong with helping this fellow if it means we finally sleep in decent beds? And it’s not a big thing, your pretending to be betrothed to him.” “I’m already betrothed, thank you very much,” she shot back. “And what about Nathan? While we’re off deceiving this man’s poor grandmother, Nathan might be hurt or in trouble. You expect me just to give up searching for him so you can get a decent meal?” “And keep from being hanged,” Freddy pointed out. “Let’s not forget that.” “Ah, the missing fiancé,” Lord Stoneville said coldly. “I did wonder when you would bring him back into it.” She glowered at him. “I never let him out of it. he’s the reason I’m here.” “So you say.” That inflamed her temper. “Now see here, you insufferable, arrogant-“ “Fine. If you insist on clinging to your wild story, how about this: while you pretend to be my fiancée, I’ll hire someone to look for fiancé. A simple trade of services.

- I have to go. - No. You don't have to go. - Yes, I do. - No, you have to rest now. - I gotta go. - No, you don't have to go anywhere. You don't need to walk out this door and hire a Pakistani. - I have to go. I got other things to do. - F…g bullshit! We just woke up! And you are bleeding. I tie you to the gas pipe by the oven in the kitchen, girl. You do not go out on that door until you calm down Martina. - I am calm. - No, you need a few hours tied to the gas pipe to think some things over. Meditate a bit. - I want to go. - I don’t give a f..k what do you want right now, Martina, I am serious. You are wrong to think I won’t tie you to that f…g pipe if you don’t calm the f..k down and use your head finally. Apparently you do not know me so well after a year, baby. You are really stupid and you don’t see or hear it when I am telling you nicely. OK. You start to piss me off because you don’t realize it. You didn’t come home here to get Sabrina killed, do you understand? It is time for you now to get yourself together after this terrible year and begin to listen to me before I slap you only once Martina but the wall gives you the second one. Do you understand? Things only get done if I take care of them myself, haven’t you seen or realized that yet? Now, you need to listen to me just this once, Martina, and stay put with your bleeding hand, before I take you to the hospital for some stitches. Do you want stitches in your hand? Shots? - No. - Tough. So sit tight until I clean up this mess, and roll a joint. Here, have a Hennessy. - I don’t want it. - I repeat. I did not ask what do you want the first time in one year. I don’t give a f..k. You are listening to the smarter one. I told you to take a shot so that you calm down before you get yourself in jail for your stupidity thinking that you had to get Sabrina killed for any reason. Who told you this bullshit Martina? No hospital, no doctor, no medication, no stitches, then you need a drink right now. Alcohol. A bit. Internally. And externally. And shut up. Answer when I ask you something. Who told you this bullshit Martina that Sabrina has the club and she has to die? - Nobody. No one told me that. – You are lying. Who told you that Sabrina was your enemy, Martina? – Nobody. You. – Stop playing! I told you she is a f…g loser, a junkie, a bum, a liar, a thief. Do you want me to beat the answers, the living shit out of Adam, or Nicolas? Which one? Both?

With a pair of scissors in my pocket, a bottle of rum in my hand, and Martina, we walked towards Plaza Trippy to go to the alley behind it called Carrer de la Rosa. Martina didn't know what this was all about; I tried to make it a surprise. At the gate, I asked Martina to hold the scissors until I climbed up the wall of the building and cut off the sign. I never had the chance to tell her that I used to do indoor climbing. Just like Adam. It was so dusty and rusty, abandoned and old, that I got dirty. The sign was quite new, or at least it looked new, but it was dustier than I had thought - it must have been up there for years. I cut the zip ties on the four corners, holding the sign to the old metal railings and then I jumped down from the wall to jump into Martina's arms in the tight alley. We were laughing. We went up and left, and up and right a few blocks until we crossed Ferran Street, I think, and finally, I thought we were safe: let's take a picture of the sign and get rid of it. I didn’t want anyone to see us in front of the place or on the busy Carrer Escudellers taking a picture of the 'For Sale' sign. Only Martina knew that we were going to have a club and that it would be right there. I gave my iPhone to Martina to take a picture of me holding the sign. I was so happy. I had my new girlfriend, suddenly from the sky, and she seemed to be “The One”. Celestial. I was wearing my beige suede Adidas shoes with white sole which Sabrina had surprised me with a year earlier on my birthday, my dark green Globe pants, and my black Breach jacket, a black hoodie, smiling ear to ear while holding a dirty sign in front of a store's closed metal shutter decorated with graffiti. After throwing out the sign in the trash can with Martina, I sent Adam the picture. He replied late at night: „:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD” Finally, it took a year to make Adam happy, even though Sabrina wouldn't let me make her happy. I got the place to make 'Aso Golan', the only place it could ever take place; to be one of the largest coffeeshops in Barcelona. I knew it would take another year to quickly fix up the place and pass the inspection before we could open it. I knew that in few years, we would be rich, looking back to the day I made my first order at the Sagrada Familia. Or the night we took off the FOR SALE sign with Martina.

You reckless bastard," I said, my throat tight. The ground was thrown open into a fiery maw, out of which slowly emerged a curved set of obsidian horns. The horns were attached to a giant head, which was attached to a spiked torso that looked like it was made of muscles and lava. And Jerod stood there the whole time, hands outstretched and his face contorted in discomfort. "What the shit class demon is that?" Gavin asked. "I think... it's a behemoth," I said weakly. The thing rose from the ground, towering so high over anything in the shopping plaza that I was sure all of Seattle could see it. Demonic was a good descriptor. So was nightmare. So was Armageddon.

So this was passion, these intense sensations centered below her belly that made her feel boneless as satin and…and hot as… Faith, she couldn’t think what. Her knees were open and her bosom bare, and she just wanted more. More. More heat, more stroking, more… A keening began low in her throat that matched the building intensity between her legs. His fingers inside her fell into a provocative, rushing rhythm that was like…like… “That’s it, my lovely Jane,” Dom whispered against her breast. “Give yourself to the dance.” Ah, yes, like dancing. Only better. Because the music rising inside her came from her pounding heart and beating blood, from Dom’s devilish playing upon her privates, from the crescendo…of her own…quickening…gasps… Someone screamed. Her, apparently, for Dom uttered an oath seconds before he swallowed her cry with his kiss. And just like that, she vaulted out of the dance into heaven. Her body shook and her hand gripped his neck hard enough to leave marks, and it was marvelous. Every inch of her felt alive, from bones to flesh to skin. She wanted to shout, but Dom’s mouth wouldn’t leave hers. His tongue slid silkily in and out, slowing, softening, bringing her down from wherever it was she’d been. After a while, his kiss gentled to a tender sweetness that made her ache in a different way. In her heart. Her stupid, foolish heart. Regretfully, she drew her lips from his, and he let her, though his gaze didn’t leave her face. He drew up her bodice, pulled down her skirts, and lifted her until she was sitting straight up on his lap. His thing felt like a rod of iron beneath her bottom, but he made no move to have her touch it again. Which was good because at the moment, she could only sit there, limp and panting. He briefly kissed her forehead. “That, sweeting, is passion,” he said in a throttled voice. She nodded. It was all she could manage. “And if you wish to leave this room an innocent, you’d best go without delay.” That startled her. But she was grateful for the warning. Because now that their encounter was done, and she was returning to reality, she realized how mad this was. If she still meant to marry Edwin… No, she couldn’t think about that. Not right now, when she had Dom’s taste in her mouth and his scent engulfing her senses. Blushing, she rose from his lap and straightened her clothes, sure that if she came across anyone in the halls, they would guess at once what she’d been doing. Thank heaven the servants had probably already retired to their quarters. She would die if any of them saw her and guessed she’d been playing the wanton. “Dom…” she began, not sure what to say. Thank you? That was lovely? When may we do it again? Not that. If they ever did this again, she wouldn’t rest until he made her his. And she still wasn’t sure she wanted that. “It’s all right, Jane,” he said tightly, as if he could read the conflict inside her. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She bobbed her head and fled.

Even if the carriage lamps are repaired,” Lord Ravenswood said, “it’s not safe for you to leave tonight. And a few hours won’t make much difference to your investigation.” “I told him that,” said Tristian, “but my fool of a brother is obsessed with avoiding Miss Vernon’s questions, and he thinks he can only manage that by staying ahead of our party.” “Ah,” the viscount said. Jane dug her fingers into her palms. After their intimacies last night, she’d thought they might have some chance together, but he only shared his body with her. Everything else he kept secret. You’re the one hiding here in the corner, her conscience said. Yes, because it was her only way around the tight-lipped devil.

I may be a lot of things, Tori. I can be reckless, irresponsible, hot-tempered. But one thing I’m not… is stupid. I know exactly what I have. I’m thankful every day that you gave me a chance, and a second, and a third. More than I can count. Because Lord knows I didn’t deserve them. But you gave them to me anyway. And I’ll never take that for granted, because you… you are amazing. The best gift I was ever given. I’m holding on tight to you and I’m never letting you go.

I saw the tight jogging pants in the cart, imagining them on her figure. I ran my tongue over my teeth, my canines aching dully as I pictured it.

You’re still tight as hell, wet as heaven.” She giggles. “Heaven is wet?” I rotate my hips and we both moan. “My heaven is wet and hot and belongs to this babe called Sabrina.