Another Word For Slowly Novels & Stories

Slowly. Silently. Unstoppably.

he said slowly , as if weighing his words carefully.

I hesitated, struggling to say the words. "I think we are creating something now and here. Even if it's slow. Even if it's amorphous." His lips curled into a soft, nearly-reverent smile that completely redefined his face. "Slow is better. I'll have slow. I'll have anything that lets me walk beside you again, however short that walk may be."

“Tell me what you're thinking.” “I’m thinking about how much I want to bury myself deep inside you,” I confided, starting to rock my hips back and forth and coating my entire length with her wetness before lowering a bit and aiming right where I wanted to be. “But we'll take it slow, okay? I want to savor this moment to remember it my entire life, Vivienne.” Her lips parted, but no sound escaped from them. Her eyes narrowed and didn't leave mine as I started to fuck her slowly, inch by inch. Her vaginal walls parted to welcome me into her warm, wet interior until I was finally fully buried in her.

The metronome of someone maintaining an investment with patience. She had built timelines like this before. She slowed, without deciding to.

“It might mean not the way I want it to go at the speed I want it to go.” “I know,” he said. “Can you do slowly?” I said. He looked at the candle. Almost smiled. “I’ve been doing slowly for nine weeks,” he said. I looked at him. “Fair point,” I said. The candle. The dining room. The house around us in its Sunday evening quiet. “After the birthday,” I said. “After the week. After slowly.” “Yes,” he said. “What do we call it?” I said. “This thing. When it has room to be what it is.”

"They were all loved." "That's the same thing." --- Autumn has come. The garden gave its last tomatoes. I harvested the herbs, hung them to dry in the kitchen. I moved slower now — not because I was old, but because I was no longer in a hurry. "You're slowing down," Sofia said during a visit. "I'm savoring it." "What's the difference?" "Slowing down is about speed. Savoring is about presence." --- The waves crashed. The stars shone.

Slowly. And then all at once.

he said slowly. Did he hear?

Slowly. "So you'd better make this count."