Hot Sex Scene Quotes

“Since we're being honest, Thursday, you really should know that before this night is over, I am going to fuck you. Hard, and long, and nasty. Just so we're square.”
― Mercy Celeste, The 51st Thursday

“Jesus, you never fail to surprise me, baby.” He’s supporting the heavy bike, and us, with his strong legs braced on either side. He reaches between us and rips my yoga pants at the seam of my crotch. Holy fucking shit! My panties are next, and before I know it, he’s lowered the waist of his pants and is filling me.”
― Kristen Proby, Fight with Me

“You're so fucking beautiful when you come," he said, cupping her face, nuzzling her mouth. "Now turn around and bend over. I need to ride you."

Tate opened her eyes and let out a shaky laugh. "Bend over the table? After being on my feet the whole night? I don't think so, buddy. I want on my back, pronto."

"And I want in you. Now," he said as he lifted her left leg, hooked his elbow under her knee, and entered her.”
― Elle Aycart, More than Meets the Ink

“Where are you going?"

"You didn't..."

"No, I didn't, but I'm in heaven deep in you. I want to stay like this. Let's talk."

She burst into laughter. "Talk? Are you nuts? I can't talk while lying on top of you with your cock shoved deep inside me."

He grabbed her by her waist and, without pulling out, he rose to lean on the wall, rearranging her to straddle him. "There you have it, no more lying.”
― Elle Aycart, More than Meets the Ink

“Shock stung her into a quivering mass of pleasure when he captured one of her hands and fed it down to the velvet-smooth thickness of his penis, then urged her to stroke it between her legs.”
― Michelle Reid, The Italian's Future Bride

“I grip Colin harder, kissing him longer, unwilling to let him go. This is what I want; this is what I’ve wanted since his damn phone interrupted us this morning, his mouth, his body claiming mine. I’m on fire, every muscle in my body attuned to his, my groin clenching with delicious need. When the voices grow louder his hold loosens.
“Don’t stop, please,” I beg into his mouth. Diving into me once more his tongue slays me, erases every thought of the outside world until the passion has left us breathless and we have to break away if only to live. His forehead presses to mine as we gasp together, the cold air barely cooling the heat raging between us.
-Midnight, A McKenna Chronicle”
― Elizabeth Miller, Midnight

“Rose, come here." Christian grabbed my hand and guided me back down on the couch next to him.”
― Tish Thawer, Scent of a White Rose

“Yes, I'm hungry. Horny, too! The thought of feeding from you is a most delectable idea and it's playing havoc with my brain as well as other parts of my body."

He sat up and scooted closer to me...”
― Tish Thawer, Scent of a White Rose

“I slid my thigh between her warm ones. Damp heat ground into my muscle as she clamped down and rolled her hips with a small helpless groan.
"That feel good, honey?" She was mostly shadows, and I itched to turn on a lamp so I could see her properly. But that would mean stopping, and I wasn't willing to let her go. I relied on touch, running my fingers along her arm, up to her neck, where sweat dewed on her skin. "You like riding my thigh?"
"Yes. Yes." That word again. Best word ever.
Her lips tickled mine as she panted, her sweet sex working in a little circle. I cupped her cheek and ate at her mouth as she took her pleasure. I'd been wanting to give it to her for so long. So fucking long. Her hands found my chest and slid down, mapping their way along my torso. It was nothing in the scheme of things, but that simple exploration, the way she whimpered and gasped into my mouth, sent licks of heat over my skin.
When her slim hand reached my cock and squeezed me through the barrier of my boxers, a groan tore from me. I shuddered, so close to coming from a furtive grope in the dark it would almost be funny if I weren't so worked up.
"Take it out," I rasped, flexing my thigh, knowing she'd feel it. I needed her hand on my bare skin. "Please."
Deftly she stole beneath the waistband and wrapped her fingers around my needy dick, giving it a firm tug. Then I was the one whimpering and gasping, fucking into the clasp of her hand because it felt so good. Sweet relief, hot pleasure.”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“Now there's a place I didn't cover. Maybe I should."
"Maybe you should---oh!" She gasped and bucked as I leaned down and lapped at her breast, flicking her nipple. God, she tasted good, sweet woman and creamy lemon. I sucked her deep into my mouth, loving the way she groaned and writhed.
Not letting go, I pulled back, tugging at her breast until her nipple freed with a decadent pop. Then moved on to her other breast, taking my time, nuzzling and licking until my lips were covered in cream, and she begged and whimpered for more.
A dollop of lemony confection slid down the plump curve of her pretty tit, and I chased it with my tongue, slurping it up, licking her nipple once more because I could. And then I did it again.
Her arm wound around my neck, urging me farther down. "Get messy with me, Lucian."
She was beautiful, flushed and fevered with her need.
"Yes, ma'am." I eased over her, my dick finding her waiting sex, and pushed into that perfect spot. We both groaned, our bodies sliding on slick buttercream. My mouth found hers, and she devoured me, her thighs clasping my hips, body working with mine.
I thrust deep and steady, reveling in the feel of her. It felt so good my body flared hot and cold and hot again. "I fucking love fucking you.”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“I leaned back against him, my hair splayed out across his hard chest, my head resting on his shoulder, my throat exposed.
"You feel so good," he said, his breath hot on my neck.
It was pornographic, the scene we made. Me with my knees up close to my chest, my legs spread, his fingers still working on me. Somehow the fact that he was still wearing his jeans, that I could only see the outline of his knuckles through the thin cotton of my underwear, only made it feel more so. But it was a vulnerable position, too, the way I was so open to him, the rasp of his voice in my ear. When I came it was so sudden it surprised me, my body clenching around his hand even as I grabbed his wrist, holding him there until the last of the aftershocks rippled through my body.
Finally, his hand skated back up over me, leaving a streak of wetness on my nipple from where he'd been inside me. I watched Sam's profile from under my lashes. The way his mouth parted as he rubbed that wet nipple with his thumb, the way he bit down on his lower lip.”
― Alicia Thompson, Love in the Time of Serial Killers

“She wanted his touch, wanted him to find that spot where her need left her begging and hungry. Anxious and half mad.
And when he touched her, teased her open, slid his finger over the wetness and inside her, her hips arched up, welcoming his touch.
"Oooh," she gasped, as his finger slid over her again, swirling in a circle and then pressing down right where it was the tightest and vibrating against her until she was nearly at her peak. "Please-”
― Elizabeth Boyle, The Viscount Who Lived Down the Lane

“When he slides in, I press my eyes shut and groan. This is going to be so, so good.
His smooth, slow thrusts turn animalistic in a matter of minutes. All I can do is cry out as the pleasure consumes me from head to toe, gripping for dear life onto the glass.
My head is shrouded in a fog of arousal. I can't get out a single coherent thought other than more, harder, faster, please.
I tell Max exactly that. And he does it all.
When his sounds turn quick and desperate, when his fingers turn viselike against my hips, I slide one of my hands between my thighs and circle frantically in the spot I need it most. This is the wildest, most lustful thing I've ever done in my life. Never in a million years did I think I'd ever be the type of girl who wants to have sex against a window overlooking downtown Portland, but I've never been so turned on. I've never been so consumed with pleasure.
This is the effect Max Boyson has on me. Not only does he make me ooey-gooey on the inside with his thoughtful gestures, his sweet words, and the way he looks at me like I'm the only person in the room. But with a single teasing kiss and the touch of his hand on my skin, I turn sex-crazed. He makes me feel so sexy and comfortable all at once. I love love love all the sides this man brings out in me.
With a firm hand, he grips my jaw and turns my face to the side so he can plant a desperate kiss on my mouth. Soon I'm trembling as climax threatens to wreck me.
When it hits, that's exactly what happens. I groan-scream and come apart in Max's grip. My head goes foggy as pleasure annihilates me. It's a glorious end, though. I'm left quivering, barely able to stand, but Max holds me securely in his arms. It's the sweetest and hottest hug from behind: his entire body covers me while his open mouth rests against my shoulder, gasping and growling at once.”
― Sarah Echavarre Smith, The Boy With the Bookstore

“For here he was about to take her to that passionate brink and she reached upward, her hips rising, her breath catching as she dared not even exhale...
Yet he stopped, and let himself go farther down, until his lips blew a hot, steamy kiss over her sex, leaving her gasping, and then it was his tongue on her, lapping at her, drawing her into his mouth and sucking at her sex.
He'd slid his fingers inside her again, easing their way in, but it was his mouth, teasing over her, that left her gasping for air, reaching upward, nearly at that brink.”
― Elizabeth Boyle, The Viscount Who Lived Down the Lane

“Charlotte groaned feverishly, a tension building within her core that begged for release.
Grunting, he lifted his hips slightly, expertly angling his body so that part of him pressed against the nubbin of flesh.
She called out his name, clasping his shoulders. Her hips pumped furiously now, a building, pulsing ache growing and growing, winding tighter and tighter still. Until it exploded.
And then they both cried out, surging upward and down, their bodies shaking with pleasure.”
― Olivia Parker, To Wed a Wicked Earl

“He pulled her to the bed, undoing his trousers and hitching up her skirt as he did. Dragging down the top of her dress, he feasted on her breasts again, entering her with her thousand-pound dress tangled all round her waist. He thrust into her frantically and she came fast and furiously. They lay together breathing heavily and then she felt him harden again. Peeling her dress from her, he then lifted her from the bed, bending her over the chair by the dressing table. He came into her from behind, rutting like a dog, where she could see herself in the mirror, legs trembling, her breasts squeezed tight in his hands, being fucked by this handsome stranger. Lifting her again, he sat her on the dressing table, pressing her thighs around him as he pushed into her. She laid back, grasping at the table, scattering her jewelry to the floor, knocking over the table lamps, and came again.
"Better now?" he said, with a smile.
"Yes," she breathed. "Yes."
He took her hand and led her to the bed. "Want to open that champagne?"
"No." She curled up on the bed, This was what she'd wanted. Anonymous fucking with no chitchat, no foreplay, no commitment. It would be better now if he just left. "I'm tired." The truth was, she was exhausted. Physically and emotionally spent.
He lay down beside her, still stroking her butt. "You're one hell of a sexy woman," he said.”
― Carole Matthews, The Chocolate Lovers' Club

“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

“Time to feast.
Enrique grasped her waist and planted kisses in between her thighs. Then he slowly licked her, savoring her sweet taste. He licked and licked again, picking the pace. She was quiet at first, then her hand dropped and rubbed the back of his head.
"Ay, Enrique. Wow."
He licked her sweet clit as she came alive under his mouth. Her body trembled, and he'd never seen anything sexier in his life than watching her above him.
Her breath came more rapidly, and her chest began to heave. She was so fucking hot, and she tasted like sweet sex. The fact that she had never been with anyone but him, that no one had ever made her moan, drove Enrique wild. This was his woman and only his woman.
What if he was the only man to ever touch her? Ever?
He pushed that thought out of his head.
"That's my girl."
Enrique pressed his finger into her beautiful pussy. It was so damn tight. He couldn't wait to feel her clench around his cock. But for now, he just wanted to make her come.
He sucked on her clit as he worked her pussy. He could sense that she was close, but he was in no rush. He could eat her all night.
Her thighs trembled and Enrique pressed his tongue flat against her.
"Ay, Dios mío!"
She came all over his face, and he lapped up her juices. After catching her breath, a gorgeous smile graced her face as he pulled back, loving the beautiful sight in front of him.
"You're right. I loved it.”
― Alana Albertson, Kiss Me, Mi Amor

“She heard the door shut and then he was kneeling before her, pushing her dress up to the top of her thighs. In one movement it seemed, he slipped off his jacket, pried open her legs, and lifted her thighs over his shoulders so that she fell back onto her elbows. She gripped the bed linens as his tongue shot into her and rolled expertly about, and when he drew it out to flick at her like butterfly wings while his fingers pressed down inside her, and orgasm climbed within her. He felt it, pushed her farther up the bed, and stood up, looking down with an expression of simple intent at her womanhood.
"Not yet," he told her, dropping his clothes to the floor.
His body was toned, hard, perfect; she longed to run her tongue over his washboard stomach, the gentle mounds of his pectoral muscles.
"Please." The pulsing between her legs was turning to a pounding. He smiled down at her then. He was making her wait of course.
He climbed up onto the bed and knelt between her thighs, teasing her with the tip of his manhood. Circling her waist with his arm, he flipped her onto her stomach. He pulled a pillow under her hips and drew her apart. And then... and then nothing. Only the creak of the bed. She expected his touch, but it didn't come.
She felt his breath all over her excitement. His chest was obviously flat to the bed, his face almost touching her. He was looking at her, really looking at her, her hairless smoothness, engorged, trembling, and the thrill of it, of knowing he was looking, but not being able to see him looking, the anticipation of being touched, made her body burn and quiver. She felt him breathing against her. She lost track of how long, how long she lay there in a frenzy of anticipation, not knowing would he touch her, would he plunge right into her. She felt her dampness spreading across the pillow beneath her hips. When he did finally touch her, so lightly, just a finger, exploring her, she cried out. It was almost unbearable. And then the creak of the bed again and he filled her. She lifted her hips higher to meet him, and he pushed her dress up higher to take her hips bare in his hands and pull her closer. He ground into her desire like the base of a palm kneading dough, pressing, lifting, pressing, smoothing her with the perfectly timed and pressured movement of a master into something light and delicate and trusting and pliable. He bent one of her legs and lifted the spiked heel of her stiletto so that it dug into his chest, turning in the movement onto her side. Then he slipped her lower leg around his hips without her heel in that foot even touching him and twisted her. Without his having withdrawn even once, she was on her back looking up at him, knees pressed back to her breasts still scooped in her dress. She reached for him, but he shook his head. He wanted to control this. He lifted her stilettoed feet onto his shoulders, and with two parted fingers closed her eyes. He spread her arms. And then he drove himself into her with such force that it hurt. And then again, and again. She could have opened her eyes, pushed him back, regained some control, but something in her wanted this. She had needed for so long to be so strong, so impervious, it felt an incredible relief to have her vulnerable femininity driven home.”
― Karen Weinreb, The Summer Kitchen

“his words tapered off to a strangled cry as he detonated in her mouth.”
― Kirsten McCurran, Fiona's Summer Vacation: A Shared Wife Romance

“She ran her nails up and through the hair on his thighs, guiding her hands toward his waiting dick. When she reached him, she started with one hand gently running over the tip, then down his shaft. He sucked in a breath as she tightened her grip around him. When her hand reached the base of him, she opened her mouth and her tongue flicked his head, over and over, while she slowly worked his shaft with her hand.
Then she ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft, licking him in one smooth motion. When she trailed her tongue back up, she stopped at his tip and popped it into her mouth, sucking him into her with tight pressure. His hands went for her hair, gripping her as she brought her mouth down the length of him, sucking firmly as she went up and down his cock.”
― Erin La Rosa, For Butter or Worse

“Turn around. I want you to come in my mouth."
"Are we about to... sixty-nine?" Nina asked.
He hesitated before replying, "Like it's twenty sixty-nine."
She laughed, then positioned herself over him, the wisps of her hair teasing him. Before he could taste her, he felt her mouth meet his cock again. His hips arched up to her, and she took in the full length of him until he was buried deep in her mouth.
"That's so fucking good," he said. But he didn't linger long; he had to taste her. He reached his hands up to grab her ass, and he gently pressed her down until her pussy was directly over his mouth. His tongue reached for her clit, and he drew her bud in. He nibbled at the tip of her and felt her buck against him. He could tell she liked the pressure, so he took her in again and again. Rolling his tongue over and around her clit in playful circles while sucking her into his mouth.
Her hips began to rock as she bobbed her mouth up and down his cock and rode his mouth with her pussy. He squeezed her ass as he focused on her clit, not releasing her or letting up on the pressure he could tell she was responding to.
"Leo, I'm so close," she said. Then returned her mouth to his cock. He rolled his tongue as he sucked more on her clit. She stilled over him, and her legs tightened. He held her still so he could continue to pleasure her as she moaned and finished on him.”
― Erin La Rosa, For Butter or Worse

“The cool air hit me, and I knew I was wet already but something about being stared at by Ryker with such heated interest made the problem worse.
"Now," he said with striking calm in his tone.
I obeyed, and before my lungs had even filled all the way he had swooped sown and placed his mouth at my clit and licked. One long, hot, tenuous stroke. The breath he'd had me take came out instantly as a cry of surprise and delight. Ryker was tasting me, all right, and he was relentless with it. When he suckled on that bundle of nerves above my entrance, I took in a sharp breath and grabbed his shoulders.
"Close," I hissed out. A mistake, because he sounded amused as he left me with one last stroke of his tongue before moving away. He left me throbbing, wanting, pissed, blissful.
"Asshole," I breathed, earning a laugh from the dragon between my legs.
"Hold still," he growled playfully, and with one of his hands he lifted my backside just enough to grab the dragon's mark on my ass. Hard.
I moaned and the mark burned as my lower body tingled in the best possible way. Ryker's hot tongue didn't stop its assault as I began that dangerous climb to orgasm.”
― Sabrina Blackburry, Dirty Lying Dragons

“I tasted myself - so salty, so sinful.”
― Fidel Roberts, Naughty Husbands: straight to gay first time

“No, this is what I'll remember for the rest of my life. The first sight of Delilah's breasts. I've dreamed about them for far too long. My first wet dreams were about them, how they might look, feel, taste. I knew nothing.
She is full and ripe, the skin paler here, delicately capped with dusky-honey tips. It gets me so hot I'm shaking. My hand cups their soft, plump weight, and she shivers too. I want to say something like "Finally" or "What took us so long?" but all that comes out is the most important thing. "You're beautiful."
Her lids flutter, her breath hitching when I rub the tips of my thumbs over her silky nipples. Those sweet buds tighten, and it's all I can do not to swoop down and suck them hard. As it is, I tweak them, and she keens. The sound goes straight to my dick. "Get in my bed, Delilah. And get comfortable, because you aren't leaving it anytime soon.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy