Sinister Seduction Quotes

Mumbling some more, John made a speedy escape. Had he even said goodbye to Celia? Corrado wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything except for the look in her eyes as she leaned across the table toward him, her smile turning sinister. "Oh, we're close." "How close?" He hardly recognized his own voice, the demanding tone as the question forced its way from his lips. "Very close," she whispered seductively. "So very, very close." His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as his body instinctively seemed to follow her lead, moving toward her, his voice dangerously low. "You're lying." "Am I?" "You are," he insisted. "Tell me you're lying. Tell me that pesky little boy hasn't gotten close to you. Tell me he hasn't… that he hasn't touched you. Tell me he hasn't—" "What if he has?" "I'll kill him." "Why?

I wore an emerald long-sleeved dress by Vivienne Tam and a pair of tangerine Christian Louboutins. I had seen the same look in one of Emerald's Vogues and asked Giada to overnight it. I learned quickly, though I wasn't very original. I'd changed in a coffee shop next to my apartment, then hopped into a cab. "Next time we must coordinate outfits beforehand," Michael whispered as we sat down. "I was going for 'salt of the earth' today." "Oh, I wanted to match the décor," I said. Tellicherry felt like a sexy, sinister jewel box. A rich sapphire blue stained the walls in large, meandering splotches, like dye dropped into water. Bronze silk leaped and dipped in the cushions. The waitresses wore black dresses with seductive lace panels revealing flesh-colored bits, and the waiters slinked in semi-sheer pajama-like outfits, conjuring bedtime escapades, none of which involved sleeping.

The issue was, strangely enough, the value of the "unegoistic" instincts, the instincts of pity, self-denial, and self-sacrifice which Schopenhauer had so persistently painted in golden colours, deified and etherealised, that eventually they appeared to him, as it were, high and dry, as "intrinsic values in themselves," on the strength of which he uttered both to Life and to himself his own negation. But against these very instincts there voiced itself in my soul a more and more fundamental mistrust, a scepticism that dug ever deeper and deeper: and in this very instinct I saw the great danger of mankind, its most sublime temptation and seduction—seduction to what? to nothingness?—in these very instincts I saw the beginning of the end, stability, the exhaustion that gazes backwards, the will turning against Life, the last illness announcing itself with its own mincing melancholy: I realised that the morality of pity which spread wider and wider, and whose grip infected even philosophers with its disease, was the most sinister symptom of our modern European civilisation;

I don’t want you to get excited, okay? But I have to tell you. There was this guy teasing her on the street. At first, Meenakshi ignored him and even reproached him like any self-respecting girl should. But then something overcame her. She became different. Suddenly began to change. A sinister smile broke out on her lips and she began to talk in a different tone, a seductive tone, a voice that no mother should ever hear on their daughters. It scared me to bits, watching all this,

Ambrosial!" Apicius said to me yet again one afternoon as we chopped beets for the evening meal. The knife revealed dark rings with every slice. There was something precious to me about black food- sinister yet seductive. Oh, how the beet juice would look in glass goblets, the torchlight glinting off the black surface! Apicius loved beet juice, and the rumors about its powers as an aphrodisiac were always a wonderful source of conversation with his guests.

Now," he said, turning me to face him. "Let us dance, Elisabeth." The musicians struck up another song, one I didn't recognize. The tempo was slow and in a minor key, seductive and sinister. The Goblin King pulled me into his embrace. He pressed his hand to my lower back, pushing our hips close together. Our hands met palm to palm, fingers intertwined. He was not masked and neither was I. Our eyes met. Despite the closeness of our bodies, it was the touch of our eyes that made me blush. "Mein Herr," I demurred. "I don't think-" "You think too much, Elisabeth," he said. "Too much about propriety, too much about duty, too much about everything but music. For once, don't think." The Goblin King smiled. It was a wicked grin, one that made me feel unsafe and excited at the same time. "Don't think. Feel.

Stockholm Syndrome. […] It was a sort of desperate blind love. And loyalty. Loyalty and love geared towards the abuser. It’s a response to fear, an admission within of defeat, I’d read. But I thought it to be more than that. It was the thrill of having something to submit to, become utterly powerless to. A sinister sort of seduction. You knew in your heart it would end badly, yet you just couldn’t stop yourself from giving [B.K1] in to that primal urge, the way prey finally accepts its fate, take me, it says, as the [B.K2] predator sinks its teeth in.

Maxim smiled his devilish, seductive smile again, and his eyes lit up with fire and danger. Arina would sacrifice anything in the world to find out what he thought about when he smiled like that.

I was in a forest, the wind whipping around me. Everything seemed grey, as though the colour had seeped out of the world. But I could see something up ahead: a fire. It was burning brightly. I couldn’t feel the heat, but I knew in my mind that it was there, that I could feel it brushing my skin as I moved closer. When I set foot in the clearing, I realised that it wasn’t just a fire. It was hundreds, maybe thousands of candles, burning all around me. There was someone standing among them. I saw the shadow of a tall hat, a long black dress, sinister sharp fingernails. She was chanting words in a language I couldn’t understand. She turned to me and her face was a blur. But it was Ebony. It felt like Ebony. The figure wore Ebony’s boots and had her black and battered suitcase at her feet. The girl’s features shifted like someone was crafting them out of clay, and soon the face was Ebony’s too. She smiled her unnerving smile at me. “Ivy,” she said. “You’re just in time.” The flames roared behind her. “What are you doing?” I asked. She didn’t reply, but reached down towards the suitcase and flicked the catches open. I had no idea what was inside it, but I felt instant dread filling my entire body. I didn’t want to look. I couldn’t. “You really should look more closely,” her voice insisted, singsong and seductive. “Why?” I asked, my feet carrying me nearer, even though I urged them to turn and run. The smile remained. “Because I’m going to do a trick.” And as she said that, black plumes of smoke began rising from the suitcase, until they were enveloping me, filling my lungs, and I was pulled down inside … And I was falling … And falling …