Afterglow Quotes

“in the afterglow
of an evening rain

i lay down
in the grass
and think of you

my body aches
like an after-kiss

breaking in soft fires
and wildflowers

my dear,
i will always be
this tender for you.”
― Sanober Khan, A Thousand Flamingos

“and the afterglow...
of your gaze...is the only
sweater that I need.”
― Sanober Khan, Turquoise Silence

“Stud,” D repeated, growly and low. Jack snorted. “You got a better word for a guy who’s swept my chimney five times in one night?”
― Jane Seville, Zero at the Bone

“Murmuring soothing noises, Dallas settled himself between her thighs and pressed a soft kiss to her clit. "You're all right." He eased the second sphere out of her. "I've got you."

She laughed and covered her face with her hands. "No, you don't. I can't stop spinning."

He dropped another kiss, this time to her inner thigh. "Nothing wrong with spinning." One final tug and another full-body shudder from Lex, and he tossed the toy aside. "I'll catch you, love. I'll always catch you."

"Will you?" She traced his jaw. "Even when you're spinning with me?"

"Especially then.”
― Kit Rocha, Beyond Control

“Her body gripped him in rapturous spasms as she went over the edge, lost in the pulsing intensity of feeling. His breath caught, and then he made a sound low in his throat, a velvety growl, while the heat of his release spread inside her.
They relaxed together slowly in the aftermath, their joined flesh resonant with deep twitches and throbs of pleasure.
Cassandra sighed and purred as his hands coasted over her tired limbs. "I think I was begging," she admitted, "near the end."
Tom pressed a soft laugh against the side of her throat, and kissed her flushed skin. "No, sweet. I'm sure that was me.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Other women snore, or talk in their sleep. I don't recall ever being woken up by the sound of vigorous pencil scratching."
"You could always ask one of those other women to marry you," I said. "Though it may not be easy to find one who is quite so tolerant of faerie assassins and strange quests as I am.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

“The water rippled as she moved closer, draping her arms around his neck in steamy affection. "How ever shall we while away the hours until then, my husband?"
He laughed softly, wickedly, but he soon carried her over to the bed. Moving under the covers, fully naked, their bodies still warm and damp from the bath, Rohan laid her down with endless kisses full of tender passion. As he made slow, deep, gentle love to her, he kept whispering, "I love you," and it was so worth the wait to hear him say it at last.
Kate was in heaven, his strength covering her, his vulnerability safe in her hands. She yielded herself to him gladly, giving him all she was. As he urged her body toward completion, her heart was so full of helpless love for him that she wept with release.
They lay together afterwards, spoon fashion, in spent, glowing silence. Rohan was behind her, his arm draped over her waist, his palm resting on the mattress. She slid her hand atop his, idly comparing the size of their hands.
His was so much larger than hers, and yet, for all his power and strength, she knew he needed her in a way that was more than physical.”
― Gaelen Foley, My Dangerous Duke

“there she was, so full of delicious colors, impossible not to look at, impossible not to love...so profoundly aligned into my being, with this radiance of beauty so powerful and warming, that even after she left, my world still glowed in her afterglow”
― Bodhi Smith, Bodhi Smith Impressionist Photography

“Witch," he grumbled as the woman committed an exploit that caused them both to gasp with a sort of reciprocal anguish. Then... they were moving conjointly, much as one would when riding a horse. The motion went on and on, the lovers more involved, more intense in their enterprise. The woman adjusted herself so that her breasts dangled over Michael's zealous mouth. He pressured, milked, and suckled.
Sarah watched to the end, repelled, captivated, discomfited, wanting them to cease immediately, while at the same juncture, never wanting the torrid exhibition to conclude. They reached a mutual goal, a pinnacle, both crying out with a strangled elation, and she felt ashamed and sickened to have witnessed the intense emotion that flared between them, yet she was glad she had.
Their pace slackened, the tension abated, the pair relaxed, and Michael rubbed the woman's back.
Arrogant and satisfied with himself, he murmured, "Feeling better?"
"Oh, Lord... but you utterly kill me when you do that.”
― Cheryl Holt, Total Surrender

“So, um...I don't really know what to say right now." I let out an embarrassed laugh.
The expression on Max's face melts from flustered to amused. And then he stands up, steps closer to me, cups his hand over my cheek, and presses a feathery kiss to my lips.
"I don't either, honestly," he says. "That was kind of..."
"Unexpected."
He nods once. "And fucking amazing."
"And hot."
"Definitely hot."
I nuzzle into his hand slightly, which earns me a sexy smile.
"Can I still come in for my coffee order tomorrow?" he asks.
"Of course."
"And maybe after you close down the bakery you can stop by and we can get up to more fucking amazing and hot stuff?"
I'm full-on beaming. This definitely isn't what I had in mind when I was psyching myself out to ask Max out on a date, it's a million times better. And I'm down to see where it goes.
"I'd really, really like that."
I start to turn to leave, but then Max grabs me gently by the hand, pulls me back to him, then levels me with a kiss so hot, my panties are soaked all the way through.
I stay standing in that spot, my head spinning, as I struggle to find my bearings.
"See you tomorrow, Joelle.”
― Sarah Echavarre Smith, The Boy With the Bookstore

“Oh... Rohan," Kate purred after a dazzled silence.
He dragged his glazed eyes open and looked at her glowing face by the flickering illumination from the distant fireplace. He reassured her of his affections with a dazed smile and a gentle kiss. A breathless laugh escaped her while his lips still lingered over hers.
When he looked at her again in question, she bit her lower lip, as though to keep herself from saying something she feared might sound silly.
"What is it?" he teased barely audibly, cuddling her nose against his own, while his long hair hung down and veiled the private space where they stared into each other's eyes. He never wanted this moment to end.”
― Gaelen Foley, My Dangerous Duke

“The next morning was the second time Kate awoke in Rohan's bed since her arrival at the castle. But unlike that first bewildering day, this time, when she opened her eyes to the morning sunlight flooding his chamber, he was the first lovely thing she saw, right there beside her.
In no hurry to arise, they stayed peacefully abed together. She passed a dreamy spell stroking her drowsing lover's bare back in tender affection.
What a long, majestic line it was that flowed from the bulky ridge of his shoulder down to the sleek, lean curve of his lower back. Of course, he had more scars on him than one body ought to bear, she thought, but he was not inclined to answer her mild inquiries about them.
"What happened here?" she murmured, tracing what appeared to be a saber scar along his rib cage.
Lying on his stomach, his face resting on his folded arms, he feigned an in-between state of sleepy inattention, though he was clearly enjoying her touch. "Hm?"
She saw through his evasion but forgave him with a knowing smile. Whatever trouble he had been in, it hadn't killed him. That was all that mattered. She leaned closer and kissed all his old hurts.
Her light kisses soon followed the same path her admiring hands had taken, until at length, he rolled onto his backhand showed her the regal evidence of her effect on him. He drew her closer, wanting to make love again, but she was still sore from her first time and softly pleaded his forbearance.
With a husky chuckle at her reluctant denial, he stole a kiss, gave her a ruefully doting look, then arose in all his magnificent naked glory to order a bath for both of them.”
― Gaelen Foley, My Dangerous Duke

“When Evie awakened alone in the large bed, the first thing she beheld was a scattering of pale pink splashes over the snowy white linens, as if someone had spilled blush-colored wine in bed. Blinking sleepily, she propped herself up on one elbow and touched one of the pink dabs with a single fingertip. It was a creamy pink rose petal, pulled free of a blossom and gently dropped to the sheet. Gazing around her, she discovered that rose petals had been sprinkled over her in a light rain. A smile curved her lips, and she lay back into the fragrant bed.
The night of heady sensuality seemed to have been part of some prolonged erotic dream. She could hardly believe the things she had allowed Sebastian to do, the intimacies that she had never imagined were possible. And in the drowsy aftermath of their passion, he had cradled her against his chest and they had talked for what seemed to be hours. She had even told him the story of the night when she and Annabelle and the Bowman sisters had become friends, sitting in a row of chairs at a ball. "We made up a list of potential suitors and wrote it on our empty dance cards," Evie had told him. "Lord Westcliff was at the top of the list, of course. But you were at the bottom, because you were obviously not the marrying kind."
Sebastian had laughed huskily, tangling his bare legs intimately with hers. "I was waiting for you to ask me."
"You never spared me a glance," Evie had replied wryly. "You weren't the sort of man to dance with wallflowers."
Sebastian had smoothed her hair, and was silent for a moment. "No, I wasn't," he had admitted. "I was a fool not to have noticed you. If I had bothered to spend just five minutes in your company, you'd never have escaped me." He had proceeded to seduce her as if she were still a virginal wallflower, coaxing her to let him make love to her by slow degrees, until he was finally sheathed in her trembling body.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“The taste of him lingered on her lips; she could smell him on her clothes. It was almost as though he stood there with her still. She put her fingers up to her lips; they felt chafed and tender and thoroughly, properly, used for perhaps the first time ever. A white heat of desire threaded through her veins again; it stole her breath. She closed her eyes.
She knew now what his beautiful mouth could do. It could prod her with sarcasm and truth and wit. It could devastate her with tenderness; it could relentlessly build a storm of pleasure in her. It could own her until that storm broke over her.
Oh, and after that, too. Because she couldn't imagine now ever drinking her fill of him.”
― Julie Anne Long, Beauty and the Spy

“She most definitely had an instinct for passion, an instinct that matched his own, that had nearly caused him to lose his head. Well, now he knew her skin was petal smooth; he knew the rich wine of her mouth; he knew the feel of that delicate, puckered nipple rubbed against his cheek---”
― Julie Anne Long, Beauty and the Spy

“The only garnish for the noodles was sesame and spring onions. The two perfect squares of butter on top were already beginning to lose their shape in the clear broth, their outlines blurring messily. Beneath them floated the crinkled noodles with their strong yellow hue. Dissolved in the soup, the butter formed golden circles on its surface. Rika deliberately passed the noodles through those circles on their way to her mouth. The taste of lye water was a little strong, but they weren't badly cooked, and retained their bite. She sipped the soup. Against the faint chicken base of the stock she could detect the flavor of bonito. The broth was hot but it slipped down easily, lubricating her painfully dry throat. Alone, the cheap butter had an overly milky tang, but in combination with the noodles and the soup, its flavor grew golden and staked its territory, with a kind of violence. A certain depth of flavor began to assert itself, and as the droplets plummeted to the centre of her body, its arc of influence expanded. The back of her nose grew hot, and she reached for the tissue box on the counter. Feeling the moisture flowing, she blew her nose loudly. A film of butter was forming across her insides. The hot broth and the hot noodles were more assertive, more forceful than Makoto's warmth and smell. As she raised them to her mouth alternately, Rika's body regained more and more of its heat and softness. She was already warmer than she had been back in the hotel room.”
― Asako Yuzuki, Butter

“The cliff beckoned and, when he latched onto her breast and suckled adamantly, she jumped, sending herself into freefall. She was shattered, undone, and careening through the universe. A voice called out, with an extraordinary kind of ecstasy, and she vaguely recognized that it was her own, then his lips were on hers, silencing her by capturing her wild cry of joy.
The frenzy persisted for an eternity until, sequentially, she commenced to reassemble. Sanity and reality returned, and she was in Michael's bed, in Michael's arms.
She dared a peek at him, and he lingered over her with a look that could only be tenderness. There was a hint of male pride there, as well, at having reduced her to such a wanton circumstance.
"Much better," he murmured, and he kissed her cheek.”
― Cheryl Holt, Total Surrender

“I've wanted to do this since you yelled at me at the Central Park Food Festival." Bennett's voice was thick, already sleepy. Men.
Then again, I was feeling a little sleepy, too. The room was dark and cozy, the bedspread even softer and plusher when Bennett and I wriggled beneath it. "You must be a masochist."
I could hear the smile in his voice now over the sleep. "Maybe."
We fell asleep in each other's arms.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“Jack slid his hand between my thighs, fingers stroking where once dry panties used to be.
"This doesn't change anything." I sucked in a sharp breath when his fingers breached the cotton barrier. "I'm still angry with you."
Jack froze, his fingers only inches from where I wanted them to go. "Are you sure you're good with this?"
"Yes, so long as you understand that it doesn't mean anything. After this, things go back to how they were."

Twenty minutes later, disheveled and breathless, we held each other in the shadows.
"Jack?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"You can have your greenhouse.”
― Sara Desai, 'Til Heist Do Us Part

“An hour later after we'd christened the bed, we lay side by side staring up at our naked selves. "Jack?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"The mirror has to go."
"I like it."
"Do you like what we just did?"
Jack gave a satisfied rumble. "Very much."
"Would you like to do it again? Ever?"
Jack froze as understanding dawned. "I've changed my mind about the mirror."
"I thought you might.”
― Sara Desai, 'Til Heist Do Us Part

“I woke up the next morning with the sun blazing through my window. I groaned and made to pull my pillow over my head.
"Ow."
I froze, and grinned sheepishly when I realized my head was not resting on a pillow, but rather on Reggie's chest.
"Sorry."
"You should be sorry," he said in mock chastisement, his voice thick with sleep. He didn't look upset, though. His dirty-blond hair was an utter wreck from all the pulling on it I did last night, and the beatific smile on his face...
I had seen Reggie smile dozens of times by that point. His smile was a mask he wore. He smiled when he was sad, he smiled when he was anxious, or when he was playing a practical joke to deflect.
This smile, though, reached all the way to his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. This was a real smile. In that moment, he looked happier, and more relaxed, than I'd ever seen him.”
― Jenna Levine, My Vampire Plus-One