A Sweet Kiss Saves Our Marriage Novels & Stories

Jesse wondered, well aware that there was just something different with her kiss. "What?" She asked, chortling. "Am I not allowed to kiss my husband like that?" His eyes widened, and a pleasant tingle ran down his spine. "Your husband?" "Are you not?" K tipped her head to the side and stared up at him like a kid, her eyes sparkling. "I mean, I know we're not yet married. But it's just paper, babe. You're mine, and I'm yours. Nothing's going to change that." She whispered the latter phrases against his lips. Her breath smelled sweet from drinking rum and coke.

"You want to marry me?" "I want you to be my wife. What do I have to do to convince you?" He stated sweetly. "Kiss me." He didn't need any more encouragement. He captured my lips and we kissed each other hungrily. "We should slow down." I stated while catching my breath when I realized that I was only left with my panties. "Sorry. I got carried away." He stated as help me put my clothes on. "I miss kissing you." I admitted as we were lying in bed.

“You're insatiable.” His eyes sparkle with mischief as he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss. “Only for you, Mrs. Marshall,” he whispers against my lips, his hands starting to explore my curves. I break away from the kiss, my desire building. "As tempting as that sounds, darling, I have work to do. We’ve been at it for an hour.” He groans, a mixture of frustration and amusement. "You're killing me here, Savannah. I can’t get enough of you, and I want you,” he whines and kisses me. “I need you, baby”.

My name is Happiness, and this is my story of how I saved my husband, home, and marriage with sex. You were expecting to see "The End," at this point, isn't it? Oh! The story had just begun. Stay tuned and enjoy the rest of the story. While Mrs. Happiness and her husband were still sitting in their sitting room, watching programs on television, there came this program that Pastor Solomon loved so much. "Hello, viewers, we have come again with this wonderful, thrilling, and captivating program, Tale of the Moon Light," the program presenter said, and Pastor Solomon said, "Yes, my dear, I love this program so much. It makes me remember back in the days when my mother did tell us all sorts of f

Ava I stroll through the warm breeze, inhaling the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers in the gardens, trying to push aside the chaotic thoughts swirling in my head. His kiss still lingers on my lips, but there's something else nagging at me—making me question if I truly know him at all. I can hear the gentle rustling of leaves and the soft hum of the day, yet all I feel is the heaviness of my thoughts. I married a man who can kiss me one moment and then act like it never happened the next. I loved how his lips touched mine. It was something I dreamed about for years and now that it finally happened, I felt afraid.

"Come on, honey. A little excitement doesn't mean I don't love you. I'll settle down after this trip, I promise. You'll always be my wife—I'm never leaving you." How ridiculous. Men and their empty words. I hung up and blocked his number. … A few days later, Melanie's social media lit up again. There she was, wrapped in Steven's arms beneath the dazzling northern lights, their lips locked in a passionate kiss. Her caption read: [Someone who loves you will always fulfill your wishes, step by step.]

We intensified our kiss, as I continued to fuck and fill her pussy with my hot cum. Mom finally relaxed under me and she sighed into the kiss, as her orgasm began to ebb. My cock finally stopped spurting and I slowed my pace until my still-hard cock had come to rest inside her. I sighed in and slowly rolled off of her, as we lazily kissed. Still wrapped in each other's arms and legs, we lay there kissing serenely, as we enjoyed our post-orgasmic highs. Feeling the need to say something, I declared, "I love being married to such a sexy and passionate woman, honey. I'd love to take you on a honeymoon someday, so we can experience all of the aspects of our marriage." Mom moaned at my words, bef

And the fact that we are both into married men says something about our taste in men… “He kissed me, he was the sweetest, he was…” she says, but her voice breaks as her eyes meet mine and she offers me the saddest smile I have ever seen. “He said he couldn’t see me anymore, it was too hard for him, he needs to make his marriage work,” Steph adds, and I hug her.

“Oh, I mean that Davy. I don't care about any woman who is in pain. I don’t care about you saving the world. I want you, my husband, the one I just married who should be enjoying our honeymoon and not some prodigy doctor.” “Look,” he held my jaw up so I could see him, and I held his gaze, ensuring he saw the truth blazing in them. “We will talk better when I come back, but I have to go.” He leaned to kiss me, and I allowed him because I was a weakling for him and because it may as well be the last time it happened, so I had to enjoy it while it lasted. Davy pulled away slowly, his eyes still pleading with me but I drew a deep breath, gathering enough strength for what was to come.

I stumbled out of the hospital in a daze. The doctor had been smiling just moments ago, congratulating me on how healthy the baby was. Then, she casually asked, "When are you planning to register your marriage with the father?" I froze. I told her we had been married for five years. The doctor frowned and checked the system again. Finally, she turned the screen toward me. [Marriage Registration: None.] Five years ago, Enrico Salvatore slipped a ring onto my finger himself and told me all the paperwork had been taken care of. He said his position in the mafia made it inconvenient to go public.