Steamy Regency Romance Quotes

“With her left thigh draped over his right hip, he pleasured her at a more leisurely pace. She closed her eyes and let him love her.
Before long, however, he had stoked her fire until it blazed again. She pressed him onto his back and, looking intrigued with the possibilities, sat astride him; he never left her body. Victorious atop him, she appeared to savor this position---and her newfound power over him.
There was no denying it. At the moment, he was hers, body and soul, whether she knew it or not. Whether he was quite ready for that or not. He was sure as hell not ready to admit it.
"Rohan," she murmured, "why haven't we been doing this all the time that I've been here?"
He gave her a licentious half smile. "I was trying to convince you that I was a gentleman," he replied, his low tone roughened by desire.
She smiled at his irreverent answer and dragged her dainty fingers down his chest. "What would I want with a gentleman when I could have a Beast?”
― Gaelen Foley, My Dangerous Duke

“Her drawers were pushed to her ankles, and his mouth wandered upward, his breath like puffs of steam against the tender skin of her leg. Evie made a low keening sound as he parted the private curls curls between her thighs. The two fingers he slipped inside her were immediately clasped and caressed, her inner muscles working as if to draw him deeper. Evie's eyes half closed, and a passion-blush swept over her body in uneven drifts of pink. "Sebastian."
"Shhh..." His fingers pushed higher, and his mouth nudged past the swollen folds of her sex. He teased the straining little peak, licking in a sly counter-rhythm to the gentle thrust of his fingers. Evie arched against the door, her throat aching from the effort not to cry out. He did not pause or relent, did not allow her a single moment to catch her breath, only stroked and tormented her hot, twitching flesh, driving the sensation higher and higher until at last she choked back a scream and shuddered with rapture. His mouth stayed on her, drawing out every last ripple of fulfillment until she was finally still, her weary flesh emptied of sensation.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“Claire… It is not what you think. Won’t you please allow me to explain? Please. Allow me to speak with you.”
It was more tempting than she liked.
“There is nothing to say. We both know what I saw.”
She paused.
“Now go away.” Her tone was as aloof as she could manage between tears that would not stop.
She saw the handle turn.
“Don’t you dare!” She took a pre-emptive step back.
But he did dare. The door opened slowly.
“Are you…dressed?”
“Of course, I am dressed!” she said furiously. “I am packing. Kindly have a carriage ordered.” It was a lie but he would not know that. Her case was still open on the window seat.
He pushed the door open wider.
He did not look like a man who had come from the arms of another woman. His face was not flushed with desire. It looked rather drawn in fact.
But what did she know of such things? Perhaps that woman had merely exhausted him.
“I did not invite her here, Claire. I did not even know she was coming.”
He pushed locks of dark hair from his eyes. Claire bit her lip, thinking of how she had looked forward to touching those waves, brushing it possessively off his face herself.
“Serafina does what she pleases. As you can see, she has no sense of propriety or discretion. She believes she owns Isabel and I even still. Even though, after her unforgiveable actions, she quite thoroughly relinquished rights to us both some time ago. I do not believe Isabel has pardoned her yet. I certainly will not.”
He looked at her, eyes wide and beseeching. Not a hint of pride or arrogance.
“She does not want me to be happy without her, Claire,” he said softly. “She must have found out I was to be married and she came with all haste. This is exactly what she was hoping for—or nearly so. When you walked in…”
“Oh? Nearly so?” Fury twisted inside her. “I apologize for intruding so unexpectedly, for interrupting your passionate liaison. I suppose if Isabel and I had not walked in, you would still be there even now. On the floor together perhaps.”
Thomas looked taken aback, then angry. “Of course not! Do you really think me so…? Is that what you believe, Claire? You did exactly what Serafina hoped you would do. Reacted with anger and jealousy, blamed me, and stormed out.”
“Jealousy!” Claire exclaimed, drawing herself up. “I assure you—I am not jealous in the least. If she wants you, she is welcome to have you. I did not want you in the first place, as you will recall.”
He flinched. If she did not know better, she might almost have believed him to be hurt.
She swallowed hard.
“What have I to be jealous of? The fact that you prefer your mistress to…” Oh, no. Her voice was catching in her throat. “…to… me…” She hiccupped embarrassingly, tears flowing over.
All of a sudden Thomas’s arms were around her, holding her firmly to his chest. “Claire… No, no…” he whispered.
Her cheek was pressed up rather roughly against his tailcoat. He smelled so good. She closed her eyes, her body relaxing against him.
There was another smell there. An overpoweringly sweet scent of lilacs. She pushed herself away, hands against his chest.
“You smell of her.”
He looked horrified.
Horrified that he did? Or horrified that she had noticed? Did he smell of her from head to toe?
Claire felt nauseous.”
― Fenna Edgewood, Mistakes Not to Make When Avoiding a Rake

“There,” she heard him say with satisfaction, and the plaid slipped off and into his hands.
“Oh, my,” she said a little faintly.”
― Fenna Edgewood, Lady Briar Weds the Scot

“It hurt to look at him. Hurt to know he wanted her but would not risk the pain of heartbreak a second time.
Well, Briar Blakeley had already lost her heart to her husband. And she would be damned if she was going to be the only one in this marriage to do so.”
― Fenna Edgewood, Lady Briar Weds the Scot

“Never had she found any man so utterly thrilling, especially like this; Rohan was more hungrily lustful for her and less civilized every moment. She urged him on, loving the fiery, untamed force of him, the hard, unyielding potency of the warrior. Losing herself in her want of him, she slipped her fingers inside the V of his loose white shirt, yearning for the chance to finally touch the gorgeous body she had so long craved.
She ran her palms over him, exploring. His muscled shoulders seemed carved of stone, but his smooth skin had the luxurious feel of kid leather. She moaned softly at the marvel of his heaving, sculpted chest.
He groaned in answer. "You're driving me mad. I want you now," he panted against her lips.
"Yes." Greedily, she peeled his shirt off him. But when he paused to lift it off over his head, she stared in dazed awe at his chisels abdomen. Oh,my.
Delights never ceased.
"Come here," he whispered in a low, raw, husky tone.
The order excited her terribly. At the moment, she did not at all mind him telling her what to do.”
― Gaelen Foley, My Dangerous Duke

“No, don't," Evie said urgently, as St. Vincent reached for the ties once more. She grappled with him, her fingers tangling with his. And then suddenly his mouth was on hers, and he pushed her against the side of building, anchoring her with his own body. His free hand caught the nape of her neck, beneath the weight of her damp hair. The lush pressure of his mouth caused a shock of response in every part of her body, all at once. She didn't know how to kiss, what to do with her mouth. Bewildered and shaking, she urged her closed lips back against his, while her heart thumped wildly and her limbs went weak.
He wanted things that she didn't know how to give. Sensing her confusion, he drew back and possessed her mouth with small, persistent kisses, the bristle on his face scraping gently against hers. His fingers came to the fragile structure of her jaw, tilting her chin, his thumb coaxing her lower lip apart from the upper. The instant he gained an opening, he sealed his mouth over hers. She could taste him, a subtle and alluring essence that effected her like some exotic drug. His tongue pushed inside her, exploring in caressing strokes.... sliding deeper as she offered no resistance.
After a luxuriously probing kiss, he eased back and their mouths were barely touching, their breath mingling in steamy puffs that were visible in the chilled night air. He brushed a half-open kiss against her lips, and another, his soft exhalations filling her mouth. The light kisses strayed across her cheek to the intricate hollow of her ear, and she gasped shakily as she felt his tongue trace the fragile rim, just before his teeth caught softly at the tiny lobe. She writhed in response, sensation streaking down to her breasts and farther, gathering low in intimate places.
Straining against him, she searched blindly for his hot, teasing mouth, the silken stroke of his tongue. He gave it to her, his kiss gentle but sure. She curled her free arm around his neck to keep from falling, while he kept the other wrist pressed against the wall, their pulses throbbing hard together beneath the wrapping of white ribbon. Another deep kiss, somehow raw and soothing at the same time... he ate at her mouth, tasted and licked inside her... the pleasure of it threatened to blot out her consciousness. No wonder... she thought dizzily. No wonder so many women had succumbed to this man, had thrown away their reputations and their honor for him... had even, if rumor could be believed, threatened to kill themselves when he left them. He was sensuality incarnate.
As St. Vincent lifted his body away from hers, Evie was surprised that she didn't crumple bonelessly to the ground. He was breathing as hard as she, harder, his chest rising and falling steadily.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“He was a man who loved kissing, nearly as much as he loved the act of intercourse itself. The kiss began as a gentle brush of dry, closed lips... the pressure increasing until he had gained the soft opening of her mouth... and then she felt the subtle intrusion of his tongue. Her head tippled back helplessly in the cradle of his palms, the sudden hammering of her heart sending the blood rushing through her veins, making her feel weak and hot. He took more of her, kissing her at every possible angle, searching deeply.
One of his hands eased over her front, passing lightly over her breasts, his thumb searching in vain for the point of her nipple through the thick padding of her corset. Craving the feel of her bare skin, he moved his fingers up to her throat, stroking the rapid throb of her pulse. His mouth slid from hers and traveled along her neck until he found the tender pulse point. Evie stiffened her legs, her hands gripping his shoulders to bolster her failing balance. With a low murmur, Sebastian gathered her more firmly against his body and sought her lips again. She could no longer hold back the pleading sounds in her throat, her mouth working frantically to draw in more of his taste, more of the warm male silk of his mouth, more---
The awkward sound of someone clearing his throat caused Evie to break the kiss with a gasp. Realizing that someone had entered the main room, Sebastian pulled her head against his chest, his thumb caressing the flushed curve of her cheek.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“Open wide for me, love. I need to be buried inside you.”
― Mihwa Lee

“I would unravel the stars from the sky if it would make you mine forever.”
― Mihwa Lee, Lady Asilia's Gamble: Book 2 (Rogues Worth Saving): A steamy, witty Regency interracial romance novel, happily ever after Regency Romance adventure ... kindle unlimited, steamy booktok women

“He kissed her deeply then, pouring all his heart into their interweaving lips and souls. This kiss held love, not lust; promise, not hope; relief, not fear.”
― Mihwa Lee, Saving Mr. Pembroke: A steamy, smutty, witty Regency Interracial romance novel, and Happily Ever After, Regency romance book for women on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited, Rogues Worth Saving Series Book 2