Comfortaire Mattress Quotes

#1. Sergeant wheels the chair back to the door. Melanie takes this in, and reads it right. She won't be needing the chair again. She won't be going back to her cell. Tales the Muses Told is lying under her mattress back there, and she crashes head first into the realisation that she may never see it again. Those pages that smell of Miss Justineau are now, and perhaps for ever, inaccessibly distant. She #Quote by M.R. Carey

#2. Hatred, like straw, makes for a lumpy mattress. #Quote by Karen Kijewski

#3. Sophia had been hard pressed not to laugh when MacLean had tripped over one of the floorboards she and Angus had pried loose. Better yet, MacLean had ripped his lace-edged sleeve on a broken nail in the doorframe of his bedchamber. She knew because she'd heard his loud curse from the hallway.
Sophia had expected him to roar at the servants and demand things be repaired, but all he did was ask Angus for a hammer to protect himself from the loose boards and stray nails that seemed to plague MacFarlane House.
To Sophia's delight, Angus had gloomily replied that there weren't enough hammers in the whole of Scotland to do that.
Since Angus had left MacLean in his bedchamber, they hadn't heard a word from him. Perhaps the man was sleeping, although how could anyone sleep in such a damp room and with such a lumpy mattress and smoky chimney?
More likely, he was awake and seething at being forced to endure such horrid conditions. She wished she had been there to witness his reaction to the threadbare furniture with broken springs and flat cushions, the inadequate bed coverings for the chilly chamber (it faced north, where the wind was fiercest), a window that was nailed slightly open, and more. #Quote by Karen Hawkins

#4. When I was seventeen you said you wanted to perform an autopsy on me, to crack open my ribcage and squeeze my heart until it burst between your fingers." What is that - if not flirting? She lifts her head off a pillow to near me, propping her elbows on the mattress. "That was me hating you, Richard. I dreamed of your death." "You dreamed of clutching my heart," I rebut. "Of killing you," she emphasizes. I lean closer to her, our eyes locking. "Vous m'aimiez." You loved me. #Quote by Becca Ritchie

#5. A floorboard cracked; knuckles tapped once on the open door. Adam looked up to see Niall Lynch standing in the doorway. No, it was Ronan, face lit bright on one side, in stark shadow on the other, looking powerful and at ease with his thumbs tucked in the pockets of his jeans, leather bracelets looped over his wrist, feet bare.
He wordlessly crossed the floor and sat beside Adam on the mattress. When he held out his hand, Adam put the model into it.
"This old thing," Ronan said. He turned the front tyre, and again the music played out of it. They sat like that for a few minutes, as Ronan examined the car and turned each wheel to play a different tune. Adam watched how intently Ronan studied the seams, his eyelashes low over his light eyes. Ronan let out a breath, put the model down on the bed beside him, and kissed Adam.
Once, when Adam had still lived in the trailer park, he had been pushing the lawn mower around the scraggly side yard when he realized that it was raining a mile away. He could smell it, the earthy scent of rain on dirt, but also the electric, restless smell of ozone. And he could see it: a hazy gray sheet of water blocking his view of the mountains. He could track the line of rain travelling across the vast dry field towards him. It was heavy and dark, and he knew he would get drenched if he stayed outside. It was coming from so far away that he had plenty of time to put the mower away and get under cover. Instead, though, he just stood there #Quote by Maggie Stiefvater

#6. The second surprise came on the heels of the first when she noted the only thing keeping her from rolling off the bed was the arm that Shawn had banded around her.
He'd sprawled himself in the middle of the mattress, shoving her to the outer edge. But, she thought, at least he was considerate enough to see that she stayed there and didn't fall on her face. #Quote by Nora Roberts

#7. Her straw-colored pigtails did not qualify her to be Rapunzel and could not be spun to gold by imp fingers, she was too active to be Sleeping Beauty, too outspoken to be Cinderella, too keen on tall fellows to be Snow White. She held little carriage with sleeping upon legumes to display her regal daintiness and imagined that the only result would be a mushy, green stain on the underside of her mattress. Her eyes met the criteria only of the evil, ice queen. #Quote by Thomm Quackenbush

#8. Gabriel pulled her over his body to lie on the bed beside him. His kisses pressed her down into the oblivion of the mattress as her hands explored his chest, his shoulders, his face.
"I want to lay my kill at your feet," he said, more growl than words, and held her tight by her hair as he marked her neck with his teeth.
She writhed against him. She wanted to bite him, she wanted to rip the flesh from his back, but most terrible of all, she didn't want him to stop. Her back arched, her body shattered, she howled. #Quote by Annette Curtis Klause

#9. I am lying in the same bed where my mother died so long ago; on the same mattress,
beneath the same black wool coverlet she wrapped us in to sleep. I slept beside her, her
little girl, in the special place she made for me in her arms.
I think I can still feel the calm rhythm of her breathing; the palpitations and sighs that
soothed my sleep ... I think I feel the pain of her death ... But that isn't true.
Here I lie, flat on my back, hoping to forget my loneliness by remembering those times.
Because I am not here just for a while. And I am not in my mother's bed but in a black box
like the ones for burying the dead. Because I am dead.
I sense where I am, but I can think ... #Quote by Juan Rulfo

#10. I wasn't sure if I was charmed by his reluctance to share a bed with a girl or insulted that, apparently, I wasn't hot enough for him to charge the mattress like a bull. #Quote by Maggie Stiefvater

#11. Day made quick work of drying his body, brushed his teeth, and walked back into the bedroom. God was already in bed, his large form taking up the entire right side of the California king-size mattress. The starch white sheet was draped loosely over his lower half. Day walked over and grabbed the two bottles of water and set them on his nightstand just in case he needed it. He climbed onto the tall bed and was grabbed by strong hands and settled on top of his naked lover.

"Cash," Day moaned.

"Shhh. Just need to hold you," God said quietly as he rested his chin on top of Day's wet hair and squeezed him hard against him, protecting him as if someone might come in the middle of the night and try to snatch him away.

Day rose and fell slightly with God's steady breaths. It was only nine thirty but it wasn't long before Day's exhaustion had him drifting off to sleep. #Quote by A.E. Via

#12. His touch both consoles and devastates me; I feel my heart pulse, then wither, naked as a stone on the roaring mattress while the lovely, moony night slides through the window to dapple the flanks of this innocent who makes cages to keep the sweet birds in. Eat me, drink me; thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden, I go back and back to him to have his fingers strip the tattered skin away and clothe me in his dress of water, this garment that drenches me, its slithering odour, its capacity for drowning. #Quote by Angela Carter

#13. Only once did Lori glimpse such an entity, supine on a mattress in the corner of its boudoir. It was naked, corpulent and sexless, its sagging body a motley of dark, oily skin and larval eruptions that seeped phosphorescence, soaking its simple bed. #Quote by Clive Barker

#14. They guillotined Charlotte Corday and they said Marat is dead. No, Marat is not dead. Put him in the Pantheon or throw him in the sewer; it doesn't matter-he's back the next day. He's reborn in the man who has no job, the woman who has no bread, in the girl who has to sell her body, in the child who hasn't learned to read; he's reborn in the unheated tenement, in the wretched mattress without blankets, in the unemployed, in the proletariat, in the brothel, in the jailhouse, in your laws that show no pity, in your schools that give no future, and he appears in all that is ignorance and he recreates himself from all that is darkness. Oh, beware human society: you cannot kill Marat until you have killed the misery of poverty! #Quote by Victor Hugo

#15. Just meat on a stick with the vague sense that somewhere between lavish femininity
And state violence lay a mediocre thing called liberty.
Still, to be able to sleep at all's a procedure of waking. Everybody
Has to live somewhere being that we are here where most
Of us are not welcome. Did you know transcendental
Homelessness was a thing. But I dreamed this dream
On a physical mattress. On an actual floor in a room with a door
That I pay and pay for. If you write you can forge
A substance that is other than the woman of substance
You are. If you do it to such a point you can find
Yourself declining substance altogether. It happens. It is a danger. But there will
Always be the idea of a bath or a sleep in a bed or a dream
In the head of a woman who is even beautiful visibly
Or at least groomed, or somewhat fresh
Or like that most domestic of bugs the cockroach
Dragging his ponderous suit of armor across the floor
Or clean sheets when it's raining and I love you so much
And I think Gimme Shelter, which is a movie I've never seen. #Quote by Ariana Reines

#16. Why don't you show me the little bit of spine you've been saving for his mattress? #Quote by Fall Out Boy

#17. He laid her down on the mattress, his eyes never leaving her charmingly disheveled form as he methodically stripped off his clothing. First his gloves, one by one, then his coat, already rumpled by his ardor.
He caught her eyes, dark and large and filled with wonder, and he smiled, slowly and with satisfaction. "You've never seen a naked man before, have you?" he murmured.
She shook her head.
"Good." He leaned forward and plucked one of her slippers from her foot. "You'll never see another."
-Anthony & Kate #Quote by Julia Quinn

#18. I don't want to hear any bullshit about how 'forgiveness' helps you sleep better at night,' because that's not true. (My seven layer mattress is amazing.) #Quote by Whitney Gracia Williams

#19. he had developed a system that enabled him to sleep in clean sheets every night without the trouble of bed changing. He'd been proposing the system to Sarah for years, but she was so set in her ways. What he did was strip the mattress of all linens, replacing them with a giant sort of envelope made from one of the seven sheets he had folded and stitched together on the sewing machine. He thought of this invention as a Macon Leary Body Bag. A body bag required no tucking in, was unmussable, easily changeable, and the perfect weight for summer nights. In winter he would have to devise something warmer, but he couldn't think of winter yet. He was barely making it from one day to the next as it was. At moments - while he was skidding #Quote by Anne Tyler

#20. Her legs splayed wide as he dropped her onto the mattress, his big body settling between them, and she cried out as he slid back inside her, his hardness stretching her lusciously. He began to pump in a slow, steady motion that wouldn't alter no matter how she writhed and begged him to go harder, faster, deeper.
His mouth went to her breast, sucking at a nipple, tugging sweetly in time to his thrusting. Her body contracted every time he pushed inward, clasping him hungrily, sensation building until a powerful climax began, wringing every inch of her body with raw force. She fell silent, her hips locked in a steep arch against his weight. Still the measured rhythm went on, extracting every last flicker of sensation. He was tireless, unhurried, using himself to satisfy her.
At last Phoebe collapsed down on the bed, shivering uncontrollably. West plunged into her... once, twice, thrice... and pulled out to crush the thick wet rod of his sex against her stomach. He buried a savage growl in the bedclothes and clutched the mattress on either side of her so hard she thought he might gouge holes in it. As she felt the hot spill of his release, an unfamiliar croon came from her throat, a sound of primal satisfaction at having pleased her mate. #Quote by Lisa Kleypas

#21. Well," Joel said, "I guess maybe we'd better get started right away." He rolled over on top of her, covering her body with his own and crushing her
deep into the thick mattress.
"Hold it," Letty said, already breathless. "Where I come from, we don't start planning babies until we've planned the wedding."
"Don't worry about it, one way or another there's going to be a wedding before next spring." Joel kissed her throat.
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure." He kissed her mouth. #Quote by Jayne Ann Krentz

#22. He closed his eyes. This bed was a wedding gift from friends he had not seen in years. He tried to remember their names, but they were gone. In it, or on it, his marriage had begun and, six years later, ended. He recognized a musical creak when he moved his legs, he smelled Julie on the sheets and banked-up pillows, her perfume and the close, soapy essence that characterized her newly washed linen. Here he had taken part in the longest, most revealing, and, later, most desolate conversations of his life. He had had the best sex ever here, and the worst wakeful nights. He had done more reading here than in any other single place - he remembered Anna Karenina and Daniel Deronda in one week of illness. He had never lost his temper so thoroughly anywhere else, nor had been so tender, protective, comforting, nor, since early childhood, been so cared for himself. Here his daughter had been conceived and born. On this side of the bed. Deep in the mattress were the traces of pee from her early-morning visits. She used to climb between then, sleep a little, then wake them with her chatter, her insistence on the day beginning. As they clung to their last fragments of dreams, she demanded the impossible: stories, poems, songs, invented catechisms, physical combat, tickling. Nearly all evidence of her existence, apart from photographs, they had destroyed or given away. All the worst and the best things that had ever happened to him had happened here. This was where he belonged. Beyond al #Quote by Ian McEwan

#23. I ache and I think the only thing that will stop it is you f%#king me into the mattress."

"Okay, no more porn for you." Ray crawled onto the bed between Piper's thighs.

Piper snickered. #Quote by Jambrea Jo Jones

#24. Lavender in the hut, fertility beads under the mattress, a dreamcatcher by the plunge pool, oyster appetizers every afternoon, and a Michael Bolton love mix. #Quote by Rachel Van Dyken

#25. London meant a new beginning, a hell-hole, a wonderland; too big, too foul; a safety blanket, point of pride, unfortunate problem, temporary mattress location, salvation, life's work. A place to stack empty tins of lager. Stage, Mecca, my water, my oxygen. London as cell, jail and favour. #Quote by Craig Taylor

#26. Was it possible that he she'd entered his dream now?
If so, she couldn't help but wonder what they were doing in there.
His fingers flexed, squeezing her backside backside "Clio," he groaned.
Something good it would seem.
With a low moan, he snaked his arm around her waist, and a small contraction of his muscles drew her close. "Clio."
"Yes, Rafe?"
Green eyes snapped open. "Clio?"
In a heartbeat, he was on the far side of the bed
as close as he could get to the edge of the mattress without falling off. #Quote by Tessa Dare

#27. I tried to lift the book in a kind of salute, but it was way too heavy for that. In fact,when I got back up to my room and tossed it on the bed,the mattress creaked in protest. #Quote by Rachel Hawkins

#28. I've got an air mattress for a bed ... really living the high life. #Quote by Clayton Kershaw

#29. I always put clothes and family photos under the mattress, in case the house burns down. #Quote by Kim Kardashian

#30. Still, the comfort in his small bed made Theo feel tragic, his mattress a coffin, the bludgeoning rain his burial soil. #Quote by Steven James Taylor

#31. The only interesting thing that can happen in a Swiss bedroom is suffocation by feather mattress. #Quote by Dalton Trumbo

#32. Judge bucked and Michaels gasped as his dick was squeezed to the point of pain. "Fuck! Austin!" Judge shouted under him, his back muscles flexing hard, his fist clenching the edge of the mattress. It only took a split second of his dick being deliciously hugged by those constricting walls to know Judge was coming apart. Coming so hard, so beautifully for him. "Yeah, sweetheart." Michaels pushed hard against Judge's prostate, wrenching another strangled yell from him. Judge shook and ground his dick into the mattress, draining the last of his orgasm while Michaels stirred up to began his own. "I'm #Quote by A.E. Via

#33. What does she look like?" Sin asked.
"Like she'd look good on a mattress."
Sin jammed her fists on her hips. "That tells me nothing, and aren't you mated?"
"I'm also a sex demon. I didn't go blind when I took a mate. #Quote by Larissa Ione

#34. She had the sea in her blood, and sometimes, if she lay very still at night, with one ear pressed into the mattress, she could even hear the sound of waves.
If that wasn't the sign that the sea was in her blood, what could it be? #Quote by Eloisa James

#35. He smiled at her. "Now, are you going to thank me properly?"

"I said 'thank you.' That's considered in some cultures as thanking you properly."

"I was hoping for a little more than that."

She studied him for a long moment before she nodded.

"All right." She scooted down a bit on the bed, pulled her gown up high on her thighs, and relaxed back into the mattress. "If you could make it quick before the food gets here, that would be great."

Gwenvael felt a small twitch beneath his eye. He often got something similar right on his eyelid but only when he had to deal with his father. Apparently a new one had developed that belonged only to Lady Dagmar. "That's not what I meant."

"I hope you're not expecting me to get on my knees because I don't think the healer - "

"No!" Good gods, this woman! "That's not what I meant, either."

"That's always what men mean when they ask to be thanked properly."

"Your world frightens me. I want us to be clear on that." He leaned over and grabbed her waist, lifting her until her back again rested on the propped-up pillows.

"I'm unclear as to what you want, then."

"A kiss," he said, pulling her dress back down to her ankles. "A simple kiss. #Quote by G.A. Aiken

#36. Have you ever noticed that however uncomfortable you might have been when you first went to bed - the room too hot or too cold; the pillows not quite right; the mattress lumpy; the sheets scratchy by the time you should get up, your bed has transformed itself into the Platonic ideal of beds? The room is cool, the bed is soft, and the pillow may as well have been God's Own Headrest. The transformation inevitably happens, of course, when you're obligated to get up and out, when nothing sounds better than hunkering down in a pile of cool cotton. #Quote by Chloe Neill

#37. She was on the far side, leaving two cold feet of mattress between them. He knew that she'd fall asleep like that ... and then gradually move over until she was plastered against him. Then he could go to sleep, too. #Quote by Patricia Briggs

#38. The door opens behind me, and I'm so busted. Jamie towels off his hair. He looks down at the mattress. "Never thought of that," he says. The towel lands on our unused desk chair, and then he yanks his mattress down, too. #Quote by Sarina Bowen

#39. My fays shall lullaby you as we cuddle up on my mattress of dandelion down. #Quote by Angela Carter

#40. It's nice when grown people whisper to each other under the covers. Their ecstasy is more a leaf-sigh than bray and the body is the vehicle, not the point. They reach, grown people, for something beyond, way beyond and way, way down underneath tissue. They are remembering while they whisper the carnival dolls they won and the Baltimore boats they never sailed on. The pears they let hang on the limb because if they plucked them, they would be gone from there and who else would see that ripeness if they took it away for themselves? How could anybody passing by see them and imagine for themselves what the flavour would be like? Breathing and murmuring under covers both of them have washed and hung out on the line, in a bed they chose together and kept together nevermind one leg was propped on a 1916 dictionary, and the mattress, curved like a preacher's palm asking for witnesses in His name's sake, enclosed them each and every night and muffled their whispering, old-time love. They are under the covers because they don't have to look at themselves anymore; there is no stud's eye, no chippie glance to undo them. They are inward toward the other, bound and joined by carnival dolls and the steamers that sailed from ports they never saw. That is what is beneath their undercover whispers. #Quote by Toni Morrison

#41. I think, maybe,
I fell in love with your
patterns and inconsistencies,
like the way you squeak
in your sleep.
And the way your heart beats.

I want to be your heartbeat
just to be that much
closer to you,
living there inside your chest,
making a home
under your flesh.

And waking up to
sunshine is nice,
I guess,
but waking to your smile
is like having sunshine
in my bed every morning,
warmth radiating
from your side
of the mattress.

And I would love to make
you a regular thing;
pillow talk in evenings,
coffee and muffins in the morning,
making everyday
as stunning as this one.

take me in small doses;
I'll take you all at once. #Quote by Charlotte Scott

#42. He jerked the second ribbon free, and the gown sagged to her hips. Growling in pleasure, Hunter kissed her belly, his tongue flickering around the rim of her navel before dipping delicately inside. Lara moaned in astonishment, jerking at the hot, moist touch, her fingers clutching at the rough silk of his hair.
Hunter pushed his head against her midriff with a tormented groan, and slid his arm around her waist. "Don't stop me," he breathed. "Please."
He picked her up as if she were a child, lurching toward the bed in a few drunken strides. Placing her on the mattress, he followed immediately, his large body levering over hers, his hands framing over her face. He kissed her hungrily, his tongue plunging and exploring her mouth, while she moaned in fearful delight. Tentatively she raised her arms around his neck, and his throat hummed in pleasure. #Quote by Lisa Kleypas

#43. When the Moon is your pillow,
And your blanket is the ground,
And your mattress is the willow,
You are sleeping upside-down. #Quote by Lou & Peter Berryman

#44. That's it: watch your moods. Don't let people see you fluctuate. Don't let yourself run your mouth. Never ever cry, even alone, because your cat or your kettle might tell. Always smile, but don't laugh loudly. Mania is an extrovert, but if you need to vent, tell your mattress or maybe your therapist, but put nothing in writing and never tell a friend or coworker how you're really feeling. Downplay any problem or joy. Pay attention to any signs that your life is shitty or excellent, because either is an illusion. Be careful around men, especially ones with big arms or opinions. Stop talking. #Quote by Elissa Washuta

#45. But I will stretch my toes so that they touch the rail at the end of the bed; I will assure myself, touching the rail, of something hard. Now I cannot sink; cannot altogether fall through the thin sheet now. Now I spread my body on this frail mattress and hang suspended. I am above the earth now. I am no longer upright, to be knocked against and damaged. All is soft, and bending. Walls and cupboards whiten and bend their yellow squares on top of which a pale glass gleams. Out of me now my mind can pour. #Quote by Virginia Woolf

#46. It's late when I wake up, past breakfast. Yet my limbs are still heavy with sleep, aching, pinning me to the mattress. #Quote by Joanna Nadin