Amy Andrews Quotes

Jemima Jane Erickson was one drunken pass away from jumping Ethan Weston's bones. He just didn't know it.

You think I need an orgasm to enjoy sex?” she demanded. “What are you, like fifteen?” She eyed him in disgust. “I can get my own orgasms just fine. Last night was not about me getting off. It was about comfort and solace. About helping you to forget for a while.”Ethan blinked as the full magnitude of her words pelted him like shrapnel. “Oh my God. It was a pity fuck?

JJ glared at his slumbering frame. Long legs, lethal in denim, his button fly already enticingly popped, abdomen all ridged and naked, begging for a finger or a tongue to discover the hills and valleys, dark shaggy hair spread around his head like a freaking halo on her pillow. Well too damn bad for this broken-down angel. She was the one who’d worked her ass off until two am. Not him. And she wanted her bed back.

All that existed was the blinding imperative to not think, to leave it all behind. To have it all fade to black in the throes of a truly good orgasm. To thrust and rock and pound until he came long and hard. To reach the pinnacle as fast as he could, to leap off the edge and truly leave all his earth-bound worries behind.He was a cave man. He was a Neanderthal. He was fucking Cro-Magnon.

He smiled that smile again. How could something so lazy do such busy things to her body?

He was a Crosby, Stills and Nash song. He loved the one he was with. He was casual with a capital C.

He wanted to get her naked. Horizontal. He wanted to put his hands all over her. His mouth all over her. He hated her clothes. And his. He wanted them off. He wanted to imprint himself on her skin.

I’m going to drag you down to the basement, kneel at your feet, rip your jeans down and I’m going to make you come so hard with my tongue the whole damn pub will think you’re being murdered.