Aggressive Love Mga Nobela at Kwento

I love you, I love you too Ash…. (Christabel heads towards where Kelly is seated and converses with her) Eddy right? Dam, he still got it. What do you want, Christabel? Kelly asks. Why so hostile? I come in peace. Can I have what she's having? Christabel says to the waiter, as she moves her seat closer. I saw you talking to Eddy, not sure what he told you, but I felt I needed to tell you something. I slept with Eddy at Jessica's second wedding. Why are you telling me this? Don't believe anything he tells you. Eddy is a liar and a cheat. After we slept together, we kept on hooking up secretly. He promised he was going to break up with you and be with me, but he never did. Remember the night y

Never. He dove into my lips that needed his forever. He was aggressively kissing me and I knew this wasn't the way he wanted this to go, he wanted it to be romantic and loving not aggressive and angry. He kept kissing me, even though he knew I wasn't in it. He moved down to my neck as I pulled his face down to mine and, I looked into those intense eyes, that had told me I was his whole world. "Why are you mad?", I asked him as he dove for my chest and rested his head on mine as I teased his hair gently, he clutched me tightly, like never before.

I ask myself that question many times I can't focus on any other thing except her. "Don't blame yourself, man, " I heard my brother's voice from inside the room, "you did whatever was in your hand so don't push the subject so far she moved on so why don't you? I know it's har-". "No-" I cut him off, "I want to know why she did this to me, I loved her more than my life, and she... She can't leave me like this she has to come back or else I will do anything to get her back doesn't matter what price I have to pay for her!"

The cold tiles bit into my skin with every thrust, my whimpers filling the air, but I bit my lips, taking everything he had to give, and goddess, it was brutal. His hips snapped wildly in a violent precision, his balls slapping like tiny fists. What should have been a showcase of love was nothing more than a punishing act. His fingers tightly gripped my breast, his claws digging into my skin, and a sob caught in my throat. But I forced it back down, in fear that I would anger him the most. “Please,” I finally begged, unable to take it anymore. “Gentle.” The air stilled around us, the hairs on my body on end, and the moment the words left my lips, I knew I was wrong.

"What I do know is this: when you smile at me, it's the best part of my day. When you argue with me, I want to kiss you silent. When you're scared of me, it breaks something inside me. When you choose to stay despite everything, it feels like a gift I don't deserve. I don't know if that's love, April. But it's the closest I've come to it in twelve years. It's the closest I'll probably ever get." My throat is tight. "That's not nothing." "It's not love either. Love is supposed to be gentle, selfless, pure. What I feel for you is possessive, selfish, dark. I want to own you, keep you, mark you so thoroughly that no one else ever looks at you. That's not love. That's something twisted." "Maybe

Instead, he gripped her jaw tightly, bringing her face forward. "You call this a fling?" he snarled, slamming his lips onto hers in a wild, punishing kiss. There was nothing gentle or loving about it. It was chaotic, untamed, a messy, aggressive clash of lips and tongue. His hand slipped into her hair, tangling among the blonde locks and fisting firmly. He kissed her like he owned her already, like he was staking his lethal claim on her. ​His other hand disappeared inside her shorts. His fingers grazed the edge of her panties, and he broke the kiss long enough to growl, "Open wide for me, amore."

His gaze turned hostile, looking at her as if he wanted to tear her apart. ​ “Mr. Thomas, please don’t.” ​ “What are you afraid of, Poppy? It’s just sex,” he snapped, heartlessly ripping the large blanket away. ​ “Mr. Thomas! Oh!” ​ This time, it was filled with heavy-handed aggression. Paul intentionally left crimson marks all over Poppy’s body. By the time he reached his goal, Poppy was nearly unconscious on the bed.

I grip his face hard, kissing him back with the same savage need, the same ruthless dominance. There’s nothing soft about this. This isn’t lust. This isn’t love. This is raw. This is burning hot. This is fucking war. This fire, this chaos, this fucking madness. It’s as violent as a winter storm and just as merciless. A forest fire with no end, devouring everything in its path. Even if it’s wrong. So fucking wrong. And the worst part is, I hate that I love it. We are enemies. We’ve crossed lines that can never be fixed.

“I gave you the weapon. Now, you remind me what I am fighting for.” His mouth found mine, the kiss fierce, controlling, and absolute. This wasn't tenderness; this was a mutual, demanding assertion of ownership, driven by the knowledge that we both carried the fresh scent of battle. The rough heat of his body against mine, the sweat, the adrenaline, it was the most potent aphrodisiac in our violent world. He tore the padded vest off my body, tossing it aside, demanding to touch the vulnerability beneath the armor. He claimed me there, in the quiet, dark space of his gym, proving that his control was necessary, his love was violent, and that I was utterly, passionately his.

“With you, I'm a bit gentle because I keep reminding myself that I shouldn't hurt you. I shouldn't…scare you away. Right? So no, I wasn't this way with them. And I certainly didn't bring them breakfast in bed either.” Hearing him say he's gentle with me makes me wonder if I learnt the meaning of that word wrongly. Because he's anything but gentle. The way he takes me is like a ravenous beast pouncing on its favorite prey. There's never any gentleness. Not that I'm complaining, no. On the contrary, I love it. I love the aggressiveness he fucks me with. I love it when he makes me scream his name. I love the deafening sounds of our skins slapping against each other.