Bisou Romane & Geschichten

His hand gently brushes my hair from my face, his thumb running over my bottom lip God. I close my eyes to block him out. This fucking guy is ridiculous. “Regarde moi,” he whispers. Translation: Look at me. I force my eyes to open and drag them up to meet his. “Vous êtes la plus belle femme putain j'ai jamais été avec,” he whispers softly. Translation: You are the most beautiful fucking woman I have ever been with. He drops his body to mine, and his lips dust mine with reverence. We kiss for an extended time, as if forgetting that he’s still inside mine. An intimacy that is as beautiful as it is petrifying. Slow, gentle, and tender.

And I would’ve let it. Triston gripped my cheek, his thumb pressing softly into my skin, forming small circles on me. His other hand slipped down the center of my back, brushing over the zipper of my dress. The inside of the house remained silent. A long sigh of fabric gave way as he pulled it down with effortless precision. The dress nearly slipped off me, and my skin felt the warmth of him as he moved his hand to touch me. We were both in such an absurd mood, Triston's hand twisted on the back of my head, pushing me forward. My breath was nearly stolen, our faces so close to each other that we both could smell the alcohol on us.

"For the last time, that's powder. Foundation is supposed be liquid" "No, this is foundation" "Powder" "Foundation" "Powder" Foundation " "Pow_" The door opened abruptly and there stood Leo with Hailey beside him with a wicked smile on her face.

Please rate a five star, comment and share😊❤ Much love from here #kisses😘

Write what you think I recommend. Kisses.

Bussy didn’t answer, but rather fondled the collar of my milk-coloured shortsleeved cotton shirt. “One hundred kisses?” That was much, Pierre”. “What do you mean?” I asked feigning ignorance about what she was talking about. “. “I was talking about the chocolates”, Bussy whispered and shifted closer. Three vehicles sped past on the tarred road in quick succession. “Do you like them?” I asked her with a smile. “Like them? I love them, Pierre. Each piece feels like your lips on mine…” “Are you serious?” “Yes, they feel like… your kisses” Bussy held my head with her two hands, and kissed me like her life depended on it.

"More wine, sir?" He looks up at me. "Yes." I can feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of my face as I refill his glass. "Bella," he says, my name rolling off his tongue like a new discovery. I stop. I return the bottle into the bucket of ice. "The name suits you," he adds, looking from my name tag to my face. His speaks in a clipped tone. Almost vaguely sarcastic, but he doesn't seem like the kind to say anything he doesn't mean.

There was something unspoken in his eyes, a tenderness that made her feel seen, cherished. Without thinking, Lune leaned in just slightly, her face inches from his. Arlo noticed the movement, his own breath catching as he met her halfway. The kiss was brief, just a gentle press of lips, soft and tender. It wasn’t rushed or demanding—it was sweet, a quiet moment that felt like the beginning of something deeper. When they pulled back, Lune’s cheeks flushed with warmth. She hadn't expected to feel so connected to him in that small moment, but it felt right. Arlo’s eyes softened, his expression showing the same quiet contentment.