Rugby Quotes

“The thing about rugby is this: You can hate a guy off the pitch who will save your fucking balls on the pitch when you play on the same side. There is nothing more glorious that that.”
― Sam Bosma, Winger

“Am I good enough?
Trust.”
― Tom

“Before you start your full day of watching Equestrian Square Dancing, Soccer Balling, Hoop Dreaming, Cricket Batting, Rugby Punching, Volleyball Chopping, Skateboard Falling, Martial Arts Bowing, Bicycle Peddlers, and College Football Hecklers, maybe we have time to learn something
Scientifically.”
― James Hauenstein

“In any game, the game itself is the prize, no matter who wins, ultimately both lose the game.”
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

“So, what...in the meantime, you just...” He glanced at her then back at the road. “Deny yourself?”

Em gave a half smile at the incredulity in his voice. Clearly it was a foreign concept to him. “It’s okay. I have a battery operated boyfriend awaiting my attention when I get home.”

He shot her a quick, open-mouthed stare, his lips parted enticingly. He looked so stunned at her admission she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Sorry, didn’t you know that women did that, too? Did I shock you?”

“Not at all.” He recovered quickly, a big smile splitting his profile. “I’m just trying to decide which is sexier. Self-denial or self-abuse.”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“But...a vibrator can’t hold you in its arms or give you the full-body experience.”

Em clamped down on the wicked surge of heat between her legs, thinking about a full-body experience with Lincoln Quinn. “It’s not going to make me lie in the wet spot, either.”

“It can’t snuggle with you after,” he countered with another laugh.

Em snorted. “And that’s your specialty, is it? Hanging around for pillow talk?”

“I’ll have you know I give very good pillow talk.”

Sure. And Elvis was alive and living at Henley Stadium. “Right,” she muttered. “Of course you do.”

“I really do.” He nodded. “Most women seem to be more interested in me giving them good head, but hey, I’m a full service kinda guy.”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“You should really go inside now,” he said.

Her glazed, unfocused stare was starting to clear, and the cranky look he was used to being levelled at him started to take shape. “And if I don’t?”

“You want to fuck me on your doorstep?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly. “Call me tomorrow when you’re sober. I’ll be right over.”

She jutted her chin defiantly—clearly pissed at him for trying to be the responsible one. “I won’t need you after I’ve spent all night with a couple of multi-speed toyfriends and a box of batteries.”

Linc shoved his hands on his hips, pushing back unhelpful images of her naked and pleasuring herself with a hot pink cock. “Go inside,” he growled.

Before he did something crazy like offering to watch.”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“The car was some kind of Porsche and the door stood open and beckoning, like a gold embossed invitation to sin
If she could survive a ride with angel-lips in his penis car then surely she’d be immune to him in any situation?”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“Talk to me when your nuts are so blue they look like something you can hang on a Christmas tree.”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“His aftershave – eau du sex god - wafted her way.”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“Probably just as well. Maybe with all that testosterone walking out the door, the insane urge to hump Lincoln Quinn’s leg would walk right out as well. Because that was exactly how she felt every time she looked at him.
Like she was in heat.
Within minutes, the restaurant had emptied out to only a few non-team wedding guests. Her nemesis was nowhere to be seen, and Em congratulated herself on her self-control as she eased off the bar stool.
Embarrassing leg-humping avoided—bravo!”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“Sex was a happiness transaction. And rugby had given Linc the means to feel very happy, very often.”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“It was the kind of mouth that should only be found on angels. Chick angels.”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“Linc had always been a leg man. Thankfully hers made up for her caustic tongue and armour plated panties”
― Amy Andrews

“This was Linc at his most elemental. This was cave man stuff. Potently male. Potently virile. Hot. As. Fuck.”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“He hadn’t struck her as particularly religious unless she counted the number of times he’d called out to Jesus when he’d been deep inside her.”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“He was stretched out like he was her own personal playground and she wanted to ride on his equipment for a bit longer.”
― Amy Andrews

“If I’d known a sixty-niner was the way to your heart I would have done it weeks ago.”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“You’re a gambling man, right? Or do you only bet on frivolous things like poker and fucking women?”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“Why do men always have such high opinions of their cock?”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“He’d gone too far. He didn’t usually talk to women so frankly. Not with them both fully clothed anyway.”
― Amy Andrews, Playing the Player

“If you already know the answer, why are you trying to make me say it?"

"Because I'm a girl, an that's what we do.”
― Sara Ney, Things Liars Say

“Even when you can only see part of the moon, the rest is still there.”
― Jax Calder, Attractive Forces

“That’s because I broke up with my boyfriend yesterday. And I can’t stop wondering if I did the right thing or if I’m the biggest idiot since humanity invented the concept of stupid.”
― Jax Calder, Attractive Forces

“We liked the same movie. He’d touched something I’d touched! In my head, I’d practically married us off.”
― Jax Calder, Playing Offside

“You think bees are just buzzing around innocently making you delicious honey and not expecting a payback sometime? One day their true end game will be revealed.”
― Jax Calder, Playing for Keeps

“The Manhandling of Gilbert Gripes by Stewart Stafford

Scrummage in a birch wood,
Pyrrhic rut for an oval prize,
Grinning studs rake my face,
A flayed Garryowen as sport.

Cauliflower ears throb with fear,
Thunderous hooves charging,
Poleaxed by a car crash tackle,
Nosebleed kiss tickles my lips.

The rite of passage staggers on,
A butcher's initiation of brothers,
Cutthroat razors kindly supplied,
Wealthy primates whoop in safety.

© Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford