Bruno X Mirabel Kiss Novels & Stories

“When was your first kiss?” I opened my mouth, no idea what I was going to say but Knox didn’t give me the chance. “In a Ferris wheel. February fourteenth, Midnight with enough fireworks in the distance,” he said, without a pause. “That’s… oddly specific,” Bobby said. “You two must remember it well.” Knox’s eyes found mine and for a second, I couldn't help but notice the faint scar above his lip. “We do,” he said. And somehow, it sounded both like a promise and a warning.

The champagne hit Alexander Knight's chest before Elena Brooks even registered she had fallen. Three hundred people watched. Twelve cameras caught it. And in the ten seconds of absolute silence that followed, Elena did the only thing her exhausted, desperate, completely ruined brain could think of. She laughed. Not a polite laugh. Not an embarrassed laugh. A real one, short and shocked, that escaped before she could stop it. The kind that comes out when your body doesn't know whether to cry or run, so it picks the worst possible option instead.

“Don't get judgy. I may not be as famous as your crush is, but at least I don't kiss someone just anyhow.” “Watch your mouth! And I thought you were Knight, I never knew it was you. I still can't get it off my head.” He leaned closer. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “None of your business, stop following me.” “I can't” “How many girls have you kissed pretending to be Knight?” I snapped. He chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re clueless.” “Go away.” “Come to our party this weekend.” “Why? So you can kiss me again? I'm not interested.”

They stayed that way for a long time , making love with tears and gasps, silent promises, the world holding its breath outside the bathroom door. Mirabel’s orgasm was sudden and beautiful. She clutched at his hand on her hip, body shuddering, moaning his name. Her pussy spasmed around him, squeezing, and Michael let go , thrusting deep and coming hard inside her, holding her so close it almost hurt. They didn’t move for a long time. When Mirabel finally turned and kissed him, she tasted like hope and heartbreak all at once. “I know the cracks are still there,” she whispered, letting her forehead rest against his. “But I’m going to fill them with us. With love. With everything I have.”

I picked up a grape, coated it in chocolate, and held it near his mouth without touching him. “Let’s see,” I said. “Sir, I need your professional opinion.” Jacob hesitated for a second—not from lack of desire, but from respect. His eyes searched mine, asking without words. I looked at him playfully, biting my lip. He took the grape slowly, never breaking eye contact. “It tastes good,” he said with a faint smile. “Now the strawberry,” I added, offering it to him. “Still tastes good.” “The grape or the strawberry?” “I was referring to you, miss,” he replied, placing his hands on either side of my thighs—without touching me.

He had come back earlier than promised, and the relief of seeing him overwhelmed me. I dropped everything, my bag, my purse, my phone, the flimsy veneer of my composure, and ran to him. My arms wrapped around his rigid form, pulling him into a desperate, clinging embrace. His expensive suit jacket felt like a shield, unyielding beneath my touch. My lips found his, a frantic seeking, a desperate plea. I kissed him like my life depended on it, pouring every ounce of my overwhelming relief, my missed longing, my sudden, chilling dread into that single, open-mouthed kiss.

Tommy asked convincingly. “Yes baby it’s fine.” Mirabel relied cheerfully as she twirled her fingers inside his beards playfully. “Okay baby, I love you.” Tommy said happily as he reached for hair and moved them away from eyelids slowly. “I love you more baby, see you on Sunday.” Mirabel said as she moved close to Tommy and gave him a much intense and longer kiss. “I'll get going now, thanks for the ride,” Mirabel said as she opened the car door and alighted, “muah!” She blew him a kiss as she alighted and started heading inside and he zoomed off immediately.

But most of all, I tell him that I'm sorry he's not free to live a different life, a life free of darkness, away from the cartel. When I try to break the kiss, he stops me. His hand goes to the back of my head, cupping me. He crushes me to him, pressing his lips hard against mine, taking what I was offering and then so much more. Andres' kiss is desperate as he thrusts his tongue inside my mouth. When I try to pull back again his other arm slides across the back of my shoulders and he anchors me against him, forcing me to accept his kiss. I taste his desperation mixed with dominance and rising passion. And while my body quickly responds to his demand, like in the shower, my mind rebels.

Which was new and confusing, I had no time to process what just happened because he repeated the action when he switched to the other breast. After paying enough attention to my breasts, he moved back up to my lips. I was tagging at his shirt. He pulled away and took it off without breaking eye contact and kissed me again. I moaned when I felt his n!pples brush against mine and our skins rubbing against each other. His hand moved down and began to rub through the fabric of my panties and I held onto his shoulder and dug my nails when I felt a build up.