All Chapters of Spicy Hot : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

CéliaHis hand rises, slow, as if not to startle a bird. His fingers brush a strand of my hair that has slipped onto my shoulder. The touch is infinitely gentle, in total contradiction with his words. An uncontrollable shiver runs through me. I close my eyes. I shouldn't. It's a capitulation.— Look at me.I open my eyes again. His fingers leave my hair to follow the line of my jaw, a trail of fire on my skin. I should step back. I should strike him. I remain still. Paralyzed by fear, by anger, and by something else. Something dark and fascinating that has grown in me since I met his gaze this morning.— You hate me. He observes, his thumb lingering on the pulse beating wildly at the base of my neck.— Yes. The word is a breath.— It's a good start. He murmurs. Hate and desire are enemy brothers. They share the same room. The same bed.His other hand comes to rest on my hip, through the fine silk. The burn is immediate, electric. I gasp. A small sound I don't recognize. His eyes darke

  Célia His lips on my skin are a devouring and gentle fire. When he kisses the inside of my knees, a flash of pleasure so sharp, so unexpected, pierces through me. A moan escapes my throat. His hands, wide and warm, travel up my thighs, pushing aside the panels of my slip. The cool air of the room on my bare skin makes me shiver, but the heat of his mouth, his hands, is far more intense. He looks up at me, his gray eyes storms in the dimness. He holds my gaze while his fingers find the hem of my silk panties. He slides them down, with an exasperating slowness, along my legs. I have to place a hand on his shoulder to keep from falling. The fabric descends, past my knees, my ankles. He disposes of it. I am almost completely naked before him, kneeling. The vulnerability is so total it becomes a form of power. I see the effect I have on him. The tension in his jaw, the raw desire darkening h

KassianBeing inside her is a revelation. An ecstasy far deeper than anything I had imagined. She is perfectly tight, with a wet heat that squeezes me, encloses me, draws me in. Seeing her beneath me, eyes drowning, mouth half-open on a gasping breath, marked by my possession… it is the peak of five years of waiting. I remain like this, buried in her, letting her get used to my presence, to this new reality of her body. I lower my head, take her lips in a slow, deep kiss, seeking to put into it everything I cannot say: the obsession, the craving, and that more dangerous thing growing in me as I feel her like this."You are mine," I murmur against her mouth. "Now and always."And I begin to move.CéliaThe movement is exasperatingly slow, exquisite. A deep back-and-forth that reshapes my universe. The initial pain melts, transforms into a full, burning sensation that invades my entire being. Each thrust of his hips anchors me a little more to the bed, a little more to him. My arms wrap

CéliaThe day was a long silence, a minefield we traversed without a word. He watches me. I feel his gaze on my nape, on my hands, on the curve of my lips, like a physical mark. A prelude. The promise made at dawn, suspended in the heavy air between us.Night falls. This time, there is no dinner, no pretense. He comes to stand in the doorway of the bedroom, a silhouette outlined against the light from the hallway. He says nothing. He doesn't need to speak. His intention is a radiation, a heat that precedes the fire.My heart begins to pound, a wild pulse in my ears. It isn't the fear of the first time. It's worse. It's knowledge. The living memory in my muscles of his possession, and the voracious anticipation of what is to come."Come," he says.It isn't an invitation. It's a reminder of order. My body obeys before my consciousness has time to rebel. I rise from the edge of the bed where I was sitting. My feet are bare on the cold floor.He takes my hand. His grip is firm, inescapabl

 KassianShe sleeps. Finally. The sleep of an exhausted vanquished, deep and heavy. The crumpled sheets are a battlefield around us. I do not sleep. I watch her.The light of dawn, gray and cold, traces the curves of her bare shoulder, the line of her spine, the dark mass of her hair on the pillow. She breathes, a light breath that barely lifts the sheets. She is here. Real. Beneath my hand resting on the warmth of her naked back.A drug. The analogy is weak, too chemical. It's more visceral, more ancestral. She is like an element my blood remembered. A territory my body recognizes before my mind maps it. Possessing her does not quench the thirst. It deepens it. Each time is the first time. Each stifled moan, each shiver under my fingers, each look she tries to harden before it glazes over—all of this fuels a fire I thought I controlled.I get up, silently. The cool air of the room hits my damp skin. I walk to the window, gaze at the pa