passion - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her up close against his chest. His hand gently glided through her hair, as he looked at her in a way he had never looked at a girl before. Her eyes were candles in that night, their light a spark of passion... desire. As a small but teasing smile crept upon her face, goosebumps lined her skin, not the kind than one gets in the cold, but the kind one gets when nothing else matters except right here, right now.
I have every intention of punishing Cory until his hand touches my face. The acceleration of my heart-rate has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with what my body really wants. I look away as if the outside world holds my attention, but after all this time he reads me like a book, eyes on my chest, my breathing rate duly noted. With a gentle finger he reorients my face so that he holds the gaze I didn't want to give him, stealing the passion from my eyes in a way that only magnifies the spark. There is no smile on his lips, only the hot intensity of his gaze that we both know is the start of the inferno to come.
You are the only healthy drug there is, the one that puts my mind into a frenzy of sparks. The simple touch of your hand leads me into moving in ways I never learnt but know so well. The feelings rock my head backwards as you kiss my neck and push your body into mine; they engulf my senses and steal away my worries. In that moment I am only alive in the present, all thoughts of past and future melted away. This medicine you bring heals me, and though I am addicted I feel safe because you are equally addicted to me.
He was all logic and feigned cool detachment until her touched her skin. Then something not only stirred in him, but it took over his thinking. The rest of his world became an unimportant blur that was banished into the far recesses of his mind. The only thing that mattered was touching her more, kissing her mouth, her stomach, her breasts. He tried to be gentle with her clothing, not to rip the lace, but it was hard. His hands were made for chopping wood and building homes rather than tiny clasps.
When I see Camille, her casual beauty, blue jeans and faded shirt, it's like I've only just been switched on, as if all this time I was a machine not fully powered up. As I watch her smile grow and the way she moves across the dusty wooden floor I want her on her back, I want her on top, I want her any way I can get her before the lunch hour is up. As she gets closer my hand automatically opens allowing the subs to fall the floor and from the look on my face she knows what I'm offering. She pauses, not to refuse, but to savour the moment before we begin. Then together we close all the blinds and lock the door...
We rode the high's of Ben's passion like it was the last rodeo we'd ever catch, knowing that the next stop was another lower place than he'd ever sunk to before. The higher the high, the lower the low, and all the time the emotions became more extreme. The love was intoxicating, the laughter soul uniting, and high jinx crazy-ass fun.
"Don't touch me!" Gina turns to the window, face rigid.
Keplin ignores her, moving close enough for her to feel his body through her clothes, hands loose at his side. He hears her breathing become deeper, her posture alters yet she stays close. Starting at her knees he lets his hands touch gently, slowly moving them up to her waist and then pausing for her reaction. Gina turns, locking her eyes on his, pale blue into deepest brown. His right hand raises to her hair, tucking the auburn wisps behind her ear. Then it is Gina that moves in first, Keplin needing no more invitation. They kiss, savouring each moment, lost in a heady trance of passion.
He whispered my name as our bodies touched
Slowly, we became entwined
our hearts fusing into one, while our bodies moved
to the rhythmic sounds of the murmurs of sweet nonsense in our ears
His tongue carved every inch of my body like a chisel
His kisses were long and deep
I gasp for air
We moaned… louder
He thrust…. Deeper
Lost in time
Then without control, our bodies exploded
Leaving us limp while we lay still
Arms and legs tangled
Listening to the satisfied sounds of the beating of our hearts
Deep into the silence of the night
Written by: Charmaine Wallace
Laroche’s passions arrived unannounced and ended explosively, like car bombs.