Blissful Blinks Novels & Stories

Blythe's voice quivered between her moans and sighs, her body and mind engulfed by the intoxicating sensations coursing through her. Blythe's senses soared to new heights as Kai's fingers danced over her clit, sending waves of pleasure cascading through her being. She struggled to articulate the depth of the bliss enveloping her, feeling as though she were being swept away on a tide of ecstasy, her consciousness consumed by the sheer intensity of the moment. It was a sensation she had never experienced before, despite her previous escapades at bars where countless men vied for her attention. Yet, it was only with Kai that she felt this overwhelming desire to surrender herself completely, kno

I screamed as pleasure began to swell within me all over again, till my eyes rolled into my head one more time. “Then be a good girl and come for us. Let us feel your greddy holes squeeze us one more time as you let go. Let go beautifully for us. Come.” As those words flowed out of Blaze’s mouth, my body seized up, and then I screened as heat blended into colorful lights and they all exploded all over me as the roaring, crashing orgasm flooded every pore of my body before pulling me under.

he commanded, his voice rasping velvet. "Let go. For me." The coil snapped open. Bliss burst out, white and blinding, tearing through me like wildfire. I screamed, my body arcing, shuddering wildly as the waves crashed over me, swirling me under in a tidal wave of unadulterated, blinding delight. His fingers kept moving, drawing out every last shuddering beat, his eyes never leaving mine, reading my surrender, taking every gasp, every tremor. The world fell apart into feeling, the only anchor was his caress and the dark promise in his eyes that this was just the beginning.

So is the wine glass on the nightstand, half-full and left there because no one is going to complain about it. She is forty-five years old, and she is not unhappy. That is, she realizes, a catastrophic thing to be. The heart attack is fast, which she will later understand as mercy. There is no dramatic final thought, no parade of faces. There is only the crack in the ceiling and then the particular absence of everything — and then, with no transition she can account for, there is light. Fluorescent. Institutional. The kind that hums. "Serra." She blinks.

Blake Perspective As I slowly open my eyes, the tantalizing aroma of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee wafts into my nostrils. My blurred vision reveals a bustling kitchen where pots and pans clatter and clink in a harmonious symphony. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder, and a soothing voice assures me I’ll be alright. The gentle touch and comforting words instantly eased the pounding headache and queasy stomach that plagued me after a wild night of drinking. As I scan my surroundings, my eyes lock on Hermione, who appears to be on the brink of collapsing.

He wished he could become those locks. Her crescent-shaped eyebrows pinched slightly as she saw him staring at her. Blaze skipped a beat at being caught. Triana’s thick, lustrous eyelashes blinked once as if to invite him over. Her narrowed eyes were filled with questions, yet they were alluring to Blaze. Those reminded him of the deep blue sea.

God has made such a stunning masterpiece in making Blaze, and he is all mine. He stared down at me with those mesmerizing sapphire blue eyes, and I felt as if I might melt into my bedsheets. It's as if time had stood still, and my body heat soared. I placed my fingertips to my sex and noticed that I was soaked and ready for him. Blaze caught this act and groaned in pleasure, and his pupils became dilated. I started to circle my pearl slowly with my fingertips and unconsciously bit my bottom lip.

Completely hers. I have to take a moment to catch my breath. She's sprawled out, limbs loose, lips parted, skin flushed. Her lashes flutter as she blinks up at me, dazed, completely blissed out and fucked senseless. She looks gorgeous. There's something holy in the way she looks right now, ruined by me, and yet somehow more divine because of it.

TATE I’D DRUNK TOO much. That was the first thing that crawled through the haze, sluggish and stupid—but the second I blinked, I didn’t see party light or a bedroom ceiling. I didn’t see anything, and a different panic shoved in. Not the hangover kind. Not the regret-the-shots kind. The something’s-fucking-wrong kind. It was dark. Too dark. Not blurry, not dim. Just black. I blinked again. Harder. Still nothing.