Sec Love Quotes

This must be awful for you. You get a job, and then next thing you know you’re dealing with a car chase, a bitchy manager, the SEC, and a boss dying to visit a secluded island with his admin assistant.” A slow grin grew on his face. Mm… when can we go?

I waved but couldn’t answer, because I was finally letting myself grin as wide as I’d wanted all afternoon, all evening, every sec of every minute with you, Ed. Shit, I guess I already loved you then. Doomed like a wineglass knowing it’ll get dropped someday, shoes that’ll be scuffed in no time, the new shirt you’ll soon enough muck up filthy.

I'm nothing, not a single thing. The only particle I had, the only tiny thing raising me up, is that I was Ed Slaterton's girlfriend, loved by you for like ten secs, and who cares, so what, and not anymore so how embarrassing for me.

We thought we had time. I waved but couldn't answer, because I was finally letting myself grin as wide as I'd wanted all afternoon, all evening, every sec of every minute with you, Ed. Shit, I guess I already loved you then.

Lumpini Park at night: love at its cheapest, but the incidence of HIV is said to be over 60 per cent. In the darkness: furtive movement on benches and on the grass, muted moans and whispers, rustlings of large animals in heat, the intensity of the atomic fusion of sec and death (highly addictive, they say).

Thank God! His truck was there. Reenergized, she hopped up his front steps and knocked. Nothing. Feeling a little disgruntled, she knocked again. And nothing. Once more, one last time, she knocked. Okay, she pounded. Beat the ever-loving hell out of the door. "Just a sec," she heard Ronin call faintly. Yay! The door swung open and... Ooooohhhhh! Standing a step or two down from Ronin, her eyes first hit the small white towel wrapped around his waist. The faint scent of masculine soap enveloped her senses as her eyes traveled down to his bare feet, and back up. Yep, that's really only just a little white towel.

He in­ter­rupted her with a boy­ish grin. "I promise I'll never wear your clothes, and I won't steal your al­lowances or your boyfriends ei­ther." Lau­ren couldn't help start­ing to smile as he fin­ished, "And if you swear never to call me Nicky again, I won't bite you." She stepped aside and let him in, then took his jacket and hung it in the closet. When she turned, Nick was lean­ing against the closed front door, his arms crossed over his chest. "On sec­ond thought," he grinned, "I take part of that back. I'd love to bite you.

you've got to jiggle the knob hard then bump with your hip." A low cackle of laughter sounded from the other side of the door. "That's what he said. What? Hold on a sec. I got this.

In a sec.......let's see if this will help. Once there was a bunny that was very sad cause his ears were long and floppy and he stepped on them all the time." "Like my shoelaces?" "Yep, just like that. One day a beautiful fairy,,,,,,,," "The shoelace fairy?" "Yep. She landed on the bunny's head and.........." "Didn't that hurt? Does she have a wand?" "Nope. She lifted up the bunny's ears and crossed them over like an x." "I can cross my eyes.........look." "Lovely. She put one ear through the bottom of the x and she pulled." "She pulled the bunny's ears..........bad fairy." "No, she was trying to tie his.........." "Dan," Jordan laughed, "Stop. That is the worst thing I've ever heard." "Well, it's better than the teepees and the arrows and crap," Danny huffed. "Can I go see Andy now?" "Yes, go see Andy and his Velcro sneakers," Jordan snickered. "We give up.

The Knife of betrayal tease from back and this Que prick every sec deep in heart why you get this pain from that person whom you love and intention to love every sec as crazy.when did not get Ans its create anger inside for self.And no one can't understand how this anger kills every day thousand time

I loved Twitter: an open, rhizomatic forum where you could aggravate existing mental illnesses, shop for new ones, violate your Miranda rights, and get fired. A place to be judged on the character of your content, driven by rubbernecking and spite, where fame is a millstone and names are bad op-sec. Twitter was the right word for it, birdsong being a Darwinian squall mistaken for idle chatter, screaming for territory and mates. An improv class, press conference, intervention, Klan rally, comics convention, and struggle session all booked in the same conference room.

She started shaping the face, using a wire loop to gently carve the slope of the strong forehead and brow, then the nose and the lean angle of the cheekbones. In little time, her fingers were moving on automatic pilot, her mind disengaged and gone into its own flow, her subconscious directly commanding her hands into action. She didn’t know how long she’d been working, but when the hard rap sounded on her apartment door some time later, Tess nearly jumped out of her skin. Sleeping next to her feet on the rug, Harvard woke up with a grunt. “You expecting someone?” she asked quietly as she got up from her stool. God, she must have been really zoned out while she was sculpting, because she’d seriously messed up around the mouth area of the piece. The lips were curled back in some kind of snarl, and the teeth . . . The knock sounded again, followed by a deep voice that went through her like a bolt of electricity. “Tess? Are you there?” Dante. Tess’s eyes flew wide, then squeezed into a wince as she did a quick mental inventory of her appearance. Hair flung up into a careless knot on top of her head, braless in her white thermal Henley and faded red sweats that had more than one dried clay smudge on them. Not exactly fit for company. “Dante?” she asked, stalling for time and just wanting to be sure her ears weren’t playing tricks on her. “Is that you?” “Yeah. Can I come in?” “Um, sure. Just a sec,” she called out, trying to sound casual as she threw a dry work cloth over her sculpture and quickly checked her face in the reflection off one of her putty spatulas. Oh, lovely. She had a slightly crazed, starving-artist look going on. Very glamorous. That’ll teach him to do the pop-in visit, she thought, as she padded over to the door and twisted the dead bolt.

Kingsley’s phone begins to ring, and her ringtone almost makes me grin. It has Lake and Falcon chuckling. ‘It’s your daddy calling, and you know he’s gonna chew your ear off. It’s your daddy calling, all you’re gonna hear is blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.’ “Hey, Dad,” she answers. “No, we came back early.” She smiles. “Yeah, it was okay.” She leans back against the couch and catches me watching her. I glance away as she continues, “No, nothing happened. We just felt like coming back before the other students.” After a short silence, she quickly rambles, “Someone’s knocking at the door. Gotta go. Love you, Dad.” She hangs up and pulls a worried face at the phone. “That was close.” “You’re not telling your father about the avalanche?” I ask. “There’s no need to worry him about something that’s done and dealt with,” she brushes it off. Changing the subject, Layla asks, “Which ringtone do you have for me?” “Oh!” Instantly the frown vanishes, and Kingsley grins at Layla. “You’re going to love it.” A moment later ‘You are my sunshine,’ comes from the phone. “Aww… thanks, my friend,” Layla coos. Lake leans over the back of the chair. “And me?” Kingsley looks at him from over her shoulder. “Have you heard of Lucas, the spider?” “Yeah.” “You have Lucas.” Kingsley presses play, and then you hear, ‘What you eating? I’m starving.’ “That’s perfect,” Falcon chuckles. “Now I have to hear mine.” “One sec.” Kingsley scrolls to his name and then I let out a bark of laughter. “You have a call from God. Haa-llelujah! Haa-llelujah!” “Badass,” Falcon grins, obviously happy with it. “This is Mason’s.” Kingsley grins mischievously, which tells me I’m not going to like it. Then a butler’s serious voice sounds up, ‘Excuse me, but I’m afraid someone is endeavoring to contact you telephonically. Shall I tell them to fuck off?’ Lake cracks up, disappearing behind the couch which doesn’t help shit seeing as I can hear the fucker laughing his ass off.

Jax swung his leg over the seat and stood over her. Sarah looked at him now, really saw the whole man. Was it her imagination, or did he look even bigger in the moonlight? More muscled, more domineering? Stronger, sexier, hotter? She shivered. “You cold?” he asked her. “No.” “Come over here for a sec, doll.” She stood stock-still, suddenly afraid. “It’s OK.” He gave her that grin that made her stomach flip. “Before we talk, there’s one thing we need to get out of the way.” “What’s that?” “Come over here and I’ll tell you.” Slowly, she covered the distance between them and stood in front of him. “Tell me what?” “This.” Jax gently took her face in both of his hands, avoiding her bruised cheek, and leaned down. She gasped, then his mouth was on hers, and all thought stopped. The kiss was unlike anything Sarah had ever experienced in her life. His lips were surprisingly soft, and when she balanced herself on his chest, she felt his incredible muscle under her fingertips. The contradiction of hard and soft, of pure animal strength tempered by a tender touch, shocked her, moved her. Sarah felt her legs weaken with lust, and she swayed forward. He moved his hands off her face then, and Jax wrapped his arms around her shaking body. He held her close, held her up. Jax cradled her, and Sarah felt protected and secure for the first time in a long time. Maybe the first time ever. Jax couldn’t believe how it felt to finally touch her the way that he wanted to. She was warm and sweet, and her response was incredible. Total surrender; aching want; hot need. He’d never have guessed that Sarah would give over so completely, and he kissed her over and over again, loving how she tasted. He finally pulled back, fighting with himself to do so. He opened his eyes and saw that hers were still closed. Her mouth was swollen and she trembled against him a bit. He ran his fingers through her curls, brushed her hair back from her gorgeous face. “Open your eyes, baby,” he said, his voice deep and husky. “Look at me.

What are you doing?” he asks me. “Just wait one second.” I run to the bathroom and change out of my old bra and underwear and put on the lacy ones. Then I brush my teeth, look at my face in the mirror. This is it. I, Lara Jean Song Covey, am about to lose my virginity to Peter K. Peter calls out, “Is everything okay?” “Just a sec!” Should I put my clothes back on or just come out in my bra and underwear? He’s never seen me in just my underwear before. Well, I guess he’s about to see me without any clothes at all, so I might as well. I step out of the bathroom, carrying my clothes in front of me like a shield, and Peter does a double take when he sees me and quickly takes his shirt off. I can feel myself blush. I stuff my bra and underwear in my suitcase, and then dig around inside until I find the packet of condoms. I take one out and then climb back into bed and get under the sheets. “Okay, now I’m ready.” “I like your bra,” Peter says, peeling the sheet away from me. “Thank you.” He moves closer to me and kisses my eyelid. First the left, then the right. “Are you nervous?” “A little.” “We don’t have to do anything tonight, Covey.” “No, I want to.” I hold up the condom, and Peter’s eyebrows shoot up. “From my dad’s kit. Remember, I told you he made me a contraception kit?” Taking the condom from me, he kisses my neck and says, “Can we not talk about your dad right now?” “Sure,” I say.

and drew her strength directly from our magickal Oklahoma earth. “U-we-tsi-a-ge-ya, it seems I need help at the lavender booth. I simply cannot believe how busy we are.” Grandma had barely spoken when a nun hurried up. “Zoey, Sister Mary Angela could use your help filling out cat adoption forms.” “I’ll help you, Grandma Redbird,” Shaylin said. “I love the smell of lavender.” “Oh, honey, that would be so sweet of you. First, could you run to my car and get into the trunk. There is another box of lavender soaps and sachets tucked back there. Looks like I’m going to sell out completely,” Grandma said happily. “Sure thing.” Shaylin caught the keys Grandma tossed to her and hurried toward the main exit of the school grounds which led to the parking lot, as well as the tree-lined road that joined Utica Street. “And I’ll call my momma. She said just let her know if we get too busy over here. She and the PTA moms will be back here in a sec,” said Stevie Rae. “Grandma, do you mind if I give Street Cats a hand? I’ve been dying to check out their new litter of kittens.” “Go on, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya. I think Sister Mary Angela has been missing your company.” “Thanks, Grandma.” I smiled at her. Then I turned to Stevie Rae. “Okay, if your mom’s group is coming back, I’m gonna go help the nuns.” “Yeah, no problem.” Stevie Rae, shielding her eyes and peering through the crowd, added, “I see her now, and she’s got Mrs. Rowland and Mrs. Wilson with her.” “Don’t worry. We can handle this,” Shaunee said. “’Kay,” I said, grinning at both of them. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I left the cookie booth and noticed Aphrodite, clutching her big purple Queenies cup, was right on my heels. “I thought you didn’t want a lecture from the nuns.” “Better than a lecture from PTA moms.” She shuddered. “Plus, I like cats more than people.” I shrugged. “Okay, whatever.” We’d only gotten partway to the Street Cats tent when Aphrodite slowed way down. “Seriously. Effing. Pathetic.” She was muttering around her straw, narrowing her eyes, and glaring. I followed her gaze and joined her frown. “Yeah, no matter how many times I see them together, I still don’t get it.” Aphrodite and I had stopped to watch Shaunee’s ex-Twin BFF, Erin, hang all over Dallas. “I really thought she was better than that.” “Apparently not,” Aphrodite said. “Eeew,” I said, looking away from their way too public display of locked lips. “I’m telling you, there’s not enough booze in Tulsa to make watching those two suck face okay.” She made a gagging sound, which changed to a snort and a laugh. “Check out the wimple, twelve o’clock.” Sure enough, there was a nun I vaguely recognized as Sister Emily (one of the more uptight of the nuns) descending on the too-busy-with-their-tongues-to-notice couple. “She looks serious,” I said. “You know, a nun may very well be the direct opposite of an aphrodisiac. This should be entertaining. Let’s watch.” “Zoey! Over here!” I looked from the train wreck about to happen to see Sister Mary Angela waving me over to her.

Thanks again, sir.” Jules shook his hand again. “You’re welcome again,” the captain said, his smile warm. “I’ll be back aboard the ship myself at around nineteen hundred. If it’s okay with you, I’ll, uh, stop in, see how you’re doing.” Son of a bitch. Was Jules getting hit on? Max looked at Webster again. He looked like a Marine. Muscles, meticulous uniform, well-groomed hair. That didn’t make him gay. And he’d smiled warmly at Max, too. The man was friendly, personable. And yet . . . Jules was flustered. “Thanks,” he said. “That would be . . . That’d be nice. Would you excuse me, though, for a sec? I’ve got to speak to Max, before I, uh . . . But I’ll head over to the ship right away.” Webster shook Max’s hand. “It was an honor meeting you, sir.” He smiled again at Jules. Okay, he hadn’t smiled at Max like that. Max waited until the captain and the medic both were out of earshot. “Is he—” “Don’t ask, don’t tell.” Jules said. “But, oh my God.” “He seems nice,” Max said. “Yes,” Jules said. “Yes, he does.” “So. The White House?” “Yeah. About that . . .” Jules took a deep breath. “I need to let you know that you might be getting a call from President Bryant.” “Might be,” Max repeated. “Yes,” Jules said. “In a very definite way.” He spoke quickly, trying to run his words together: “I had a very interesting conversation with him in which I kind of let slip that you’d resigned again and he was unhappy about that so I told him I might be able to persuade you to come back to work if he’d order three choppers filled with Marines to Meda Island as soon as possible.” “You called the President of the United States,” Max said. “During a time of international crisis, and basically blackmailed him into sending Marines.” Jules thought about that. “Yeah. Yup. Although it was a pretty weird phone call, because I was talking via radio to some grunt in the CIA office. I had him put the call to the President for me, and we did this kind of relay thing.” “You called the President,” Max repeated. “And you got through . . .?” “Yeah, see, I had your cell phone. I’d accidently switched them, and . . . The President’s direct line was in your address book, so . . .” Max nodded. “Okay,” he said. “That’s it?” Jules said. “Just, okay, you’ll come back? Can I call Alan to tell him? We’re on a first-name basis now, me and the Pres.” “No,” Max said. “There’s more. When you call your pal Alan, tell him I’m interested, but I’m looking to make a deal for a former Special Forces NCO.” “Grady Morant,” Jules said. “He’s got info on Heru Nusantra that the president will find interesting. In return, we want a full pardon and a new identity.” Jules nodded. “I think I could set that up.” He started for the helicopter, but then turned back. “What’s Webster’s first name? Do you know?” “Ben,” Max told him. “Have a nice vacation.” “Recovering from a gunshot wound is not a vacation. You need to write that, like, on your hand or something. Jeez.” Max laughed. “Hey, Jules?” He turned back again. “Yes, sir?” “Thanks for being such a good friend.” Jules’s smile was beautiful. “You’re welcome, Max.” But that smile faded far too quickly. “Uh-oh, heads up—crying girlfriend on your six.” Ah, God, no . . . Max turned to see Gina, running toward him. Please God, let those be tears of joy. “What’s the verdict?” he asked her. Gina said the word he’d been praying for. “Benign.” Max took her in his arms, this woman who was the love of his life, and kissed her. Right in front of the Marines.

When God gives us consolations, he shows his love for us, and when he sends trials, he wants to see whether we love him; therefore the best advice is to receive all from him and derive love from it; that is, to look upon it as a test by which he seeks to prove our love. When he comforts us, let us think that he wishes to sec whether we shall care more for his gift than for him, and that his intention is to make us love him more.

It's our lives" I say into the dark. "We should get to choose what we do with them." I hear her sigh, and she says "Yeah, but here's the thing. My mom grew up really poor. Like, her parents almost gave her away to another family. That kind of poor. And now I have all this opportunity, so of course she wants me to use it to become like, financially secure. Okay, open your eyes a sec." "Wow." I open my eyes. "Right? How do you go against that without feeling guilty?" She snaps the palette shut, takes the wrapping off the primer, and begins applying it to my lashes. "Do you think I'm being a spoiled little rich girl? Like, First World Problems, and all that?" I think about kids who've lost entire families to war and famine. Kids who don't know where their next meal is coming from. Willow's own mom. Even Dela, whose mom is dead. "Um. I guess?" I say. On the other hard, that doesn't make her problems any less real, and that's what I tell her as she brushes on my mascara.

Also consent and safe words. I don’t normally get so carried away.” “I’m on the pill … wait. Back up a sec. Safe words?” “In case I get too rough with you.” I almost laugh out loud. “There’s no such thing. I love how rough you are.

I got this life, n I feel breathing Bcoz of u...... I left alone in d side of darkness N melted like a snow ball in d raising sun shine.. I had no past of u , N I had no memories of u But I still have a affection towards u.. U r not with me when d tym I need u badly N I feel empty when u r not beside me But I still feel to rely on u.... U didn't fullfiled all d dreams of mom N she may hates u... Every sec for leaving alone N she might have lost all her hopes bcoz of u But I promise I will fulfill all her dreams I have seen many fathers who gives support N cares like a hero of their child But I feel good if u become a shadow of mine To support me all d tym.....I need u Every 1 may hate u , N speak wrong abt u May b mom don't want u now... But ur son needs u badly N want to linger beside u U might have hold my hand U might have smooched me U might have hugged me U might have cared abt mek N i feel nothing abt it...N I don't hav a memory abt u But I still imagine every sec that U loved me... U care abt me... Just bcoz.......u r my FATHER uff, U r truly a wonderful part in my life .............................. < I miss u DAD >...............................

The rest of the week is the story of my love affair with reality constantly in motion towards promised changes, which perhaps, will never come.

Worst persons of the world those easily take lie wear of their child,For a sec they don't feel hesitation to put child life on risk for self.So how you can call them Human if even they Don't love their own child

choose three others: creamy St-Félicien, which is so ripe it quivers at the slightest movement; brebis corse, a Corsican speciality made from sheep’s milk and rolled in rosemary and thyme; a chèvre—not too dry but tasty, I specify. A lot of the sec goat cheeses have a powdery texture, which I dislike, whereas the younger chèvres can be milky and a bit tasteless. He recommends the small discs of Picodon from the Drôme region. There might be six bakeries on Rue Montorgueil but I’m also particular about where I go for bread.

Tu te mets à donner, par bêtise, par amour. Les gens, ils te prennent tout. Et tu te retrouves tout desséché, sec comme mes mains. Les gens, ils savent pas rendre.

He took hold of her chin with a thumb and forefinger. “Hold still. It will be over in a sec.” “That’s what she said,” Kasha deadpanned. Chuckling, Axel shook his head. “You look all serious and quiet and then you drop these little humor bombs so unexpected that they sail over most people’s heads.