Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Sensually. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Sensually Quotes And Sayings by 95 Authors including Lisa Kleypas,Pepper Winters,Tessa Dare,Saundra Mitchell,A.r. Von for you to enjoy and share.
The skin of his torso was smooth and golden, rows of hard silken muscles contracting at her timid touch. His body radiated heat, luring her like a cat to a patch of sunlight.
My skin begged for his touch. My lips tingled for his. Every inch of me craved what he could deliver.
He caught her pearl with his fingertips and worked her in tight, feverish circles until she shuddered and cried out with the exquisite pleasure. As her climax receded, he withdrew, finishing with a few hard, desperate thrusts between her thighs. As he came, she savored his low growl.
The warmth of his mouth bloomed across my hand, and his nails skimmed across the inside of my wrist. Such great sensation from so little a touch ...
I feel his body pressed against mine. His heat burns against my flesh; searing, seducing. Permanently making it his.
They sat and he drew her into him. Their lips met, sparking an internal firework display. His soft exquisite lips pressed gently against hers. His kiss held the exact right balance between tenderness and a kind of passionate urgency.
I breathed him in, feeling the effect of him - his nearness, his support - permeate my being. The smell of his soap was muted now, the naturally seductive scent of his skin altering the fragrance into something richer and more delicious. When I was restless, he settled me.
Gently touching with the charm of poetry.
Lips kissed, kissing kissed.
No Romeo-and-Juliet acts, no nonsense about Love with a large L, none of that popular song claptrap with its skies of blue, dreams come true, heaven with you. Just sensuality for its own sake.
Fiercely to cherish, softly to guard.
Pleasure was a siren, luring her to experience more
Touch your breast,Hellen," he commanded as he pressed a finger inside her and stroked the tight velvet passageway of her sex."I want to see you squeeze your nipples as I suckle your clit."
"Oh,gods,"she moaned, grasping her breast as her hips swung forward and back.
Simon presses his lips against mine. This dance we share is as natural as breathing. But this isn't just a kiss. Our tongues mesh together, silently writing the opening lines of a novel and I feel it...I feel him on a completely different level.
His kiss sent sensation from the tip of my tongue all the way to my knees, and I let my weight fall against him as I met his probing tongue with my own. I wanted to be closer, to absorb all of him, to experience the shimmery feeling flowing through my veins for as long as possible.
We'll do the sensual shit another time,
He pressed a soft kiss down on the skin. I melted into a pool of desire, concealing it behind a demure smile. For such an innocent gesture, it overflowed with eroticism. My imagination was already running naked. I meant wild. My fully clothed imagination ran wild.
We say that the words were smooth, caressing, hard, sharp, and so on: all words that refer to body touching. Indeed we can kill or elate with words as body experiences.
As I kissed her the heat of her body increased, and it exhaled a wild, untamed fragrance.
I feel your body against mine, while our lips are intertwined.
I soaked him in. His image. His scent. His feel.
He pulled me to him. Dipped his head. Pressed his mouth to mine in a kiss I could only hope would not be our last.
Pleasure so exquisite that her entire body thrummed with it, and emotions so expansive and consuming that she didn't know where Lucien ended and she began.
her back and intimately over her bottom,
Sensuality, too, which used to show itself course, smiling, unmasked, and unmistakable, is now serious, analytic, and so burdened with a sense of its responsibilities that it passes muster half the time as a new type of asceticism.
Soft and sweet, and burning like fire all at once, his lips clung to mine desperately. His large hand cupped the back of my head,pulling me even closer, and my arms wrapped around his neck holding him close. His kiss devoured me and left me aching for more.
The smell of him and the touch of his skin, I feel my desire for him rise again and we move together.
The feeling of his lips on my skin and his hand just below my breasts sent shivers through my body. I ran my hands through his soft hair, slipping in a kiss as he ran his tongue up my neck. His lips met mine again.
The feel of your skin, the flutter of your pulse when I touch you, the scent of your arousal are all incredibly beautiful and erotic. See yourself for what you are and revel in your beauty.
And then in a moment of pure magic, our lips touch tenderly and sensitively!
It was like being pleased by a thorn blush, feeling fond of every prickle.
They were wrapped in each other's arms, lips and tongues dancing, and their hands exploring each other with wild abandon. With a wave of his hand and a seductively wicked wink, he divested them both of their clothing,
Separating her thighs. The scent of her arousal hardened every muscle in his body. He moved his hand down her hip and then to her hot, warm core.
With a sweet kiss, off the glass ...
Charlee has my arm. She has my arm - my arm that's rigid from pleasure, from her touch - in her little fingers. She holds my other one, too and she's right there, that sweet candy perfume stripping the rest of the strength from my body, and it escapes in a soft, breathy sigh.
He liked to touch, she realized. In bed, he kept his arms around her or a hand on her like now. The way he played with her breasts, or just touched her, or ran his hands over her body, made her feel so ... so beautiful, Desirable.
Give me this one night, Em, please.
Let me feel the softness of your skin.
Let me taste the sweetness of your flesh.
Let me feel your warmth.
Even now, my back was still arched with sensual invitation, my bottom was questing up like a cat in heat, and my every move was supple, sinuous. I was one great big come-hither.
Making love, sensing how he felt about her in the high tide of passion, seeing herself through his eyes, brought her to an ecstasy beyond words.
Okay is BURSTING with sensuality
Love is sensual and celestial.
I felt close to him, but somehow the energy was sensual but not ... sexual. Erotic, yes, but I didn't want to fuck him. He looked totally relaxed, his breathing even and deep.
He touched me with such reverence, his fingertips light and curious as they cruised up my spine while his mouth was bold and knowing, his tongue lavishing taut, puckered skin with deadly precision.
As if moved by a breeze that only she could feel.
As soon as my fingers graze her skin, chills rush down her arms. She tightens her arms over her chest and rubs the chills away. I can't help but grin, knowing it was my hand on her skin that did that to her. Best. Feeling. Ever.
She felt hot, strong, alive against him, and he found he had this crazy urge to move his mouth down to the side of her neck, to press it against her, to taste her skin. He wanted to feel her breasts, wanted to pull her T-shirt up and feel her hot skin against his. Damn, he wanted her.
Hot waves started to wash all over my body. And I yielded to his sweet touch.
I felt his eyes devour me as I moved around the room. He assessed me head to toe without blinking, and a hot ache shivered through me. A kiss would've been less intimate.
Her lips were the texture of a dream, & her body against his felt like destiny.
Everything about him enveloped her, made her crave exactly this. His possession. In her mind something relaxed; the balance shifted. She welcomed every way he could touch her, the heat from his body, the atoms of his breath. Everything.
His hand worked swiftly between my legs, arousal pooling and dampening my thighs, his tongue thrusting past my lips.
It was a singular sensation to be held so gently and yet so fiercely, to be stared down at with so much love.
In a tenderness so explicit, sexuality can become obsolete
She kissed him with just as much exuberance, enjoying the feel of his warm, sexy mouth against hers, the caress of his hands on her cheeks, as she stroked his bare back with as much tenderness.
I moan with his words, with the boldness of this man, with the ease at which he can spin my world around and drive me wild. I am close to the sweet spot, moving against his hand, arching into his touch,
He put his hand on my waist, and my heart began to pound, a rougher rhythm than the music. I held my skirt. Our free hands met. His felt warm and comforting and unsettling and bewildering
all at once.
His touch thrilled her, excited her and left her with a yearning to do anything, and everything,
The sweetness of his breath whispering past my cheek and ear, as his soft, sure lips warmly grace my skin, makes my stomach feel like a thousand dainty butterflies swirled into flight.
He pushes my lips open with his and we sink into each other. It's crazy and wonderful every part of me is melty with desire. It's all just breath and body between us.
I barrel into his arms, my mouth connecting with his. Seizing him. Feeling him. Loving him.
A pleasure so exquisite as almost to amount to pain.
Like a virgin, touched for the very first time.
The erotic is a resource within each of us that lies in a deeply female and spiritual plane, firmly rooted in the power of our unexpressed or unrecognized feeling ...
There was a sensual feel to the way Aiden's eyes traveled over her, leaving her tingling without even a touch. ~from The Secret of Spruce Knoll.
I am acquainted with no immaterial sensuality so delightful as good acting.
The tenderness between two people can turn the air tender, the room tender, time itself tender. As I step out of bed and slip on an oversize shirt, everything around me feels like it's the temperature of happiness.
Voila, pleasurable indeed. Oh yeah, satisfy my need. Alright, how I long to be. My soul on fire and my spirit free.
She was touching his body with her tongue, and he felt it there, but somehow what she was doing went deeper. As if that gentle, moist tongue of hers were flicking his heart as well.
Pleasure of every kind quickly satisfies.
After making love there is nothing like making love, slowly, idly, like walking without a destination, or swimming in a warm sea.
Now he was kissing me, not in a scary way, not with hostility, but with warm, seductive intent. In a hayloft, in the barn, in the middle of the night. This scene brought to you by the letters W, T, and F.
He'd never forgotten the sweep of her soft mouth against his, the taste of her sweetness, like strawberries, and the way she fired his insides to life.
He swayed side-to-side, fighting against my compulsion. I smiled sweetly, leaning in and grazing my nail across his cheek. "You understand?" Skin contact made it solid. His shock melted into a gooey grin.
J.M. Friedman. Succubus in Seattle (Kindle Locations 173-175).
With callused hands
i tasted
the softness of the moon
in the coldest winds
i discovered
my soul's
warmest fireplace
in the roughness
of his stubble
the tenderest love.
A low, sweet sound comes from his throat. I bring a hand up to the back of his neck. Aside from the deep warmth of passion, my energy stays very, very still, and for the first time, I don't miss it.
After a moment, he found my neck, kissing the nape, his teeth grazing my skin and causing
me to make a small noise very much like a whimper. Before I could take another breath, his
lips met mine and I was lost to his touch.
His kiss, like rich chocolate, infused her senses, making her hungry for more.
His hand touches my waist, steadies me. The touch sends a shock through my body, and all my insides burn like his fingers ignited them. I pull close to him, pressing my body against his, and lift my head to kiss him.
Pinning her wrists on either side of her head, he growled telepathically, Open your legs.
Hunger pulsed. God, she loved it when he got growly and autocratic. Arching in a stretch that rubbed her torso against his, she put her mouth lightly against his and whispered, Make me ...
With grace and beauty, feel.
I stroke her lightly, memorizing her body. I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin. I lie motionless, savoring the feeling of her body against mine. I'm afraid to breathe in case I break the spell.
The kiss wove between gentle and frenzied, liquid and greedy, silken and primal, and he sucked every second of bliss he could from the forbidden pleasure.
He lifted her up against that tiled wall. Spread her legs. Her mouth was still on him, lips, tongue, teeth ... His fingers slid over her core. Pushed inside her sex. So wet. So hot. She clamped down on him and held tight.
Painter's mouth dropped down to my ear, catching it in his teeth just tight enough to hurt. I felt the hardness between his legs grinding into me as need exploded through my body. He smelled so good . . . My hips twisted, desperate for more. Painter groaned.
I hunger to commit the act of touch.
Sensual pleasures are like soap bubbles, sparkling, effervescent. The pleasures of intellect are calm, beautiful, sublime, ever enduring and climbing upward to the borders of the unseen world.
How happy I would be if I could give figurative expression to the unconscious feeling that often murmurs so softly and sweetly within me.
I think sensuality is a part of me. It's not all of me, but it's a part of who I am.
Before I lose my nerve, I slip a hand around her waist and haul her to me. I need to touch her like I need to breathe. With her scent invading me under the covers, I want to bathe in it - to stain my soul with it. She
I must learn to express the gentle vibration of things: the intrinsically rough texture. I must find this expression in drawings; in the way in which I draw my nudes here in Paris, more original and at the same time sensitively observed.
Sexual thrills are not all physical, and although Parlabane was an unlikely seducer, even on the intellectual plane, it was clear that his desire was, by this prolonged tickling, to bring me to an orgasm of the mind.
It felt like a kiss from a man whose reasons were strictly carnal. And I like it.
As I unbutton him, I kiss his skin - warm, fragrant, smelling of soap, his expensive cologne and him. Done, I slip him out of the garment and lay over his heart which thuds heavy and deep beneath my breast. Except for my gossamer-thin robe, we're almost skin to skin.
When I speak of the erotic, then, I speak of it as an assertion of the lifeforce of women; of that creative energy empowered, the knowledge and use of which we are now reclaiming in our language, our history, our dancing, our loving, our work, our lives.
As he plunged inside her with his tongue, delving deep into her inner core, he knew the sweet nectar was heaven itself. He licked his lips, the taste of her lingering on his tongue. He wanted more. Always more.
His rough-pad fingers travel down my throat, across my collarbone, down the swell of my chest, a simple caress which has me quaking inside. My flesh aches for him, burns for his touch.
with the passion that she had pent
There was no denying it; his wicked words thrilled her. Like a feather slowly brushing over her bare skin, they teased and tantalized, awakening every inch of her body.
Kissing her
is warm wet
dangerous magic.
Her mouth
conjures
a storm
inside me.
Taking her slick palm, he flattened it once more. And then with his free hand, he signed against her skin in slow, precise positions:
L.O.V.E.U.4.E.V.E.R
When my whole body is pushed against his, I wrap my legs around his waist, forcing him to carry me the way my heart had been carrying HIM since the moment he saw me.