Wink And Pout Quotes

Domenico reached out for the olive oil standing in a basket next to them and poured a large dollop into his hand before winking at Seth, beyond excited. “It will feel like the first time again.” Seth pouted, which didn’t make him look any less horny. “Because it’s ‘extra virgin’?

Well, now,” Mrs. Havisham said, all but purring as she leaned forward, ample cleavage on display. “You’ve grown up, haven’t you? Tell me, Gustavo. What are your thoughts on having an experienced lover?” “Not many,” Gus said. “In fact, none at all. Also? I came out when I was thirteen. You were there. As was the whole town. Pastor Tommy announced it at the Fall Harvest Festival. On stage. Into a microphone. There was apple pie afterward.” “Still?” she said with an exaggerated pout. “Yes,” Gus said, deadpan as he could make it. “Still. Funny how that works.” “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me,” she said, dragging a pink fingernail down his arm. “My door is always open. Like my body.” “That’s not even remotely healthy,” Gus said with a sniff. “Maybe that’s why I need your protein,” she said with a wink. “Nope,” Gus said. “Nope, nope, nope.” “You sure about that?” “Maybe you should close that door. And your legs.

Clicking on "send" has its limitations as a system of subtle communication. Which is why, of course, people use so many dashes and italics and capitals ("I AM joking!") to compensate. That's why they came up with the emoticon, too—the emoticon being the greatest (or most desperate, depending how you look at it) advance in punctuation since the question mark in the reign of Charlemagne. You will know all about emoticons. Emoticons are the proper name for smileys. And a smiley is, famously, this: :—) Forget the idea of selecting the right words in the right order and channelling the reader's attention by means of artful pointing. Just add the right emoticon to your email and everyone will know what self-expressive effect you thought you kind-of had in mind. Anyone interested in punctuation has a dual reason to feel aggrieved about smileys, because not only are they a paltry substitute for expressing oneself properly; they are also designed by people who evidently thought the punctuation marks on the standard keyboard cried out for an ornamental function. What's this dot-on-top-of-a-dot thing for? What earthly good is it? Well, if you look at it sideways, it could be a pair of eyes. What's this curvy thing for? It's a mouth, look! Hey, I think we're on to something. :—( Now it's sad! ;—) It looks like it's winking! :—r It looks like it's sticking its tongue out! The permutations may be endless: :~/ mixed up! <:—) dunce! :—[ pouting! :—O surprise! Well, that's enough. I've just spotted a third reason to loathe emoticons, which is that when they pass from fashion (and I do hope they already have), future generations will associate punctuation marks with an outmoded and rather primitive graphic pastime and despise them all the more. "Why do they still have all these keys with things like dots and spots and eyes and mouths and things?" they will grumble. "Nobody does smileys any more.

I do not know that Lady Glencora's heart was made of that stern stuff which refuses to change its impressions; but it was a heart, and it required food. To love and fondle someone, - to be loved and fondled, were absolutely necessary to her happiness. She wanted the little daily assurance of her supremacy in the man's feelings, the constant touch of love, half accidental half contrived, the passing glance of the eye telling perhaps of some little joke understood only between them two rather than of love, the softness of an occasional kiss given here and there when chance might bring them together, some half-pretended interest in her little doings, a nod, a wink, a shake of the head, or even a pout.

Whatcha got there?” Drake asked, nodding to the floor. “Snacks for me.”  I winked.  “Well, now I’m offended.”  He fake pouted, scooting away from me in his seat, which made it even more funny because there was nowhere for him to go in the tiny car. “Why is that?”  Nothing wrong with playing along, besides, he was cute when he was fake-mad.  What was I saying?  He was cute ALL the time. He turned to me and slid his arms around my waist, pulling me close.  Far off, I caught a whiff of his scent.  Mmm.  Delicious. “It’s just that I thought I was your snack on the go.”  His breath danced on my cheek, dangerously close to my lips. I giggled before I could stop myself. “Do you really want me to suck you dry?” “Mmm, that sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”  He raised his eyebrows and flashed a naughty grin. “Don’t be dirty, I didn’t mean that.”  I slapped his arm for good measure.  “Is that all you think of me as—some kind of slutty vampire?

She narrows her eyes at me, her lips pursing in a way that makes me want to kiss the pout right off her face. “I do not snore.” “You were breathing so heavily the captain asked me to control you?” I joke. She glares at me. “I. Do. Not. Snore.” “Whatever you say, princess.” I wink, feeling the atmosphere between us shift from sleepy to comfortable to something more charged, more electric.

Reagan looks like she could use some cooling off, don’t you think?” She winks at me. Gonzo is suddenly a man on a mission. He hides the gun down by his leg and rolls around to where Reagan is sitting. He stops below her and claps his hands together. She looks down at him, smiles, and says something, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. He grins, pulls out the squirt gun and proceeds to soak her. He doesn’t hit her in the face, but he gets the rest of her pretty well. She puts her hands up to shield herself, and it’s really pretty amusing. Suddenly, his pistol runs out of water, and she climbs down the ladder of her chair. She has a wet towel in her hand, which she proceeds to flick at him until it cracks against his knee. “Ouch!” I whisper to myself, wincing. But he fucking loves it. He grins and throws his gun to someone in the pool to fill up. The whole time, she’s chasing him around the edge of the pool with the towel, until her dad has to come and send her back to the stand. Mr. Caster points his finger, and she pretends to pout. Then she flicks him on the ass with the towel too. He turns around, picks her up, and tosses her into the water. She floats to the surface and sputters.

She turned back to Gabriel. “It must be so depressing to see me alive after all these years. You were so angry the night you broke my neck.” He had his evil eyebrows back on. “Yes. Because you killed my father.” “Well, he was awful.” “And you shot Tristan.” “Complete accident.” “And then you cursed me and killed Scarlet.” She shrugged. “Those last two may have been a bit rash of me.” “Rash? Rash? I haven’t been able to fall in love for five hundred years.” “You could have loved me.” She spread her palm against his bloody shirt and five purple-painted nails crawled their way up his chest to his face. He thrust his face away and smacked his head into the pillar. Raven pouted her lips. “Poor thing. You’re not nearly as magnificent when you’re all tied up.” She winked. “Not like this anyway.” Nasty, nasty, nasty. Heather was judging Gabriel on so many levels tonight

Good morning,” she said, smiling as she slid over beside me and straddled the stick shift. All worries of Sawyer fled my mind. “Good morning, beautiful,” I replied, and leaned over to kiss her. She immediately sighed and moved closer to me, running her fingers through my hair. It took all my self-control to pull back. “Don’t you want to get out of here first?” I asked. She pouted as if I’d just taken away her favorite toy and sat back, crossing her arms over her chest. “How’re you feeling today?” I asked, pulling out onto the road. Her dimple winked at me. It took extreme willpower to keep driving and not pull over so I could kiss that sweet spot. “I’m fine…I mean, better than fine. I’m--” She paused, and I glanced down to see her cheeks flush a pretty, bright pink. I couldn’t keep from chuckling at the innocent blush on her face. Reaching down, I gently pulled one of the small hands she was wringing nervously in her lap and threaded my fingers through hers while the first stirrings of possessiveness came over me. “Are you sore?” I asked. I’d heard virgins were normally sore afterward, but Ashton had been the first virgin I’d ever been with. She started to shake her head, but then her blush deepened. “Maybe a little.” “I’m sorry,” I replied, feeling a tug of protectiveness to go with the healthy heaping of possessiveness rearing up inside me. She was turning my insides into a war zone. She gazed up at me and smiled shyly. “I’m not.” God, I loved her. She wrapped her arms around mine and laid her head on my shoulder. It was one of the few times I hated my stick shift. I’d prefer to remain just like this without having to move my arm. “Tell me you put on sunblock,” I said, glancing down at her lightly tanned skin. The sun on the beach was intense for even the best tanner. She giggled and nodded her head. All was right with the world. Once I pulled out onto the highway, heading south, I tucked my hand between her thighs and enjoyed the ride.