Romans & histoires Carmilla Carmine Sex

Camila stood up and they both headed into the cave, it was dark and damp. "is this advisable?" Camila asked as they walked deeper into the cave. It became darker and darker as they went further till they could hardly see themselves. "Roman?" Camila called softly. She stretched out her hands trying to feel him in the darkness. She couldn't. Suddenly, she felt something grab her. She screamed so loud, her voice echoed in the cave. Roman burst into laughter as he pulled her close to his chest. Camila didn't find it one bit amusing. She almost burst into tears at this.

“I want to see you when you come. I want to see those beautiful eyes getting lost because of me.” His thumb found her clit, stimulating it in slow circles while his fingers continued thrusting inside her. It was too much. The pressure, the rhythm, the intensity of those eyes fixed on hers. “Go on,” he whispered, his voice deep. “Come for me, solnyshko. Soak my hand. Give me what’s mine.” “Come.” The Lycan growled internally, and Carla felt the vibration through the bond. “Come for us. Now.” She exploded.

A recognition that lived below thought. The woman's eyes opened fully. Crimson. Not human. Deep glowing red lit from somewhere inside, burning steady and old and alive. Tyra stepped back. "Who are you." "You already know," the woman said. Her voice was warm and cracked at the edges like something that had been through fire and come out the other side. She moved forward, each step soundless on the black soil. Her crimson eyes moved over Tyra's face with a desperation that was almost physical. Like someone who had been kept from something for so long that seeing it again hurt. "You have always known."

“He used to be a wolf. Then he became a Lycan.” “That isn't possible.” “Nothing is impossible,” she mutters. “If I’m right, the cursed girl might be connected to him. Maybe not fated mates, but something close. That’s your answer.” “What makes her a special Crimson-born?” “Her beast keeps coming back to life, even after it dies. How many cursed beings have you seen do that? Not even the mightiest shifter has a beast that returns from the void.” She turns to leave but not until I catch her saying, “Good luck trying to rule this pack, Alpha.”

Carl crawls onto the bed, his hands gripping my ankles, yanking me toward him. He flips me onto my stomach, and before I can even process the movement, his palm slaps my ass. The sting is immediate, sharp, and I cry out, my fingers clawing at the sheets. “Count,” Dame orders from the doorway. “One,” I gasp. Another smack, this one harder. My skin burns. “Two!” Carl’s hand slides between my thighs, his fingers finding my clit. He rubs in tight, punishing circles, and I whine, my hips lifting off the bed.

My whole body tingled with heat, and even my pheromones rippled imperceptibly. My heart tightened. I unconsciously increased the grip on his hand. As we approached the emergency exit, I suddenly heard a "tick-tock, tick-tock" sound. The sound of the fight had masked it when we arrived, but now that it was quiet, the noise was particularly clear. Could it be a bomb? My heart chilled, and at that moment, the ticking sound suddenly turned into an electrical noise. Almost by werewolf instinct, I lunged at Cyrus. The moment my body pressed against his, the cedar scent enveloped me like a tidal wave, along with the subdued dominance characteristic of the Lycan bloodline.

“To other wolves? Yeah.” I sat down on the edge of the teacher’s desk because my legs weren’t exactly in the mood to keep holding me up. “Awesome,” I muttered. “Just what every girl dreams of. Werewolf perfume.” Ethan gave me a look, but didn’t smile. “It’s not a joke, Camila. That scent—it makes you trackable.” “Trackable by who?” I swallowed. He hesitated. Then: “The ASD.” “Is that a band or—?”

I grip her wrist and lean down into her, snarling, "Nobody tells me what or who I can and can't have. Do you hear me?" I see fear in her eyes for just a moment, but then her lips curve upwards, and in a sultry voice, she states, "Let me be your breeder. I'm still young enough to have kids…" My laugh is anything but amusing. Carmen is almost fifty; she can't tell me she is of child-bearing age. I lean in further so my lips are near her ear. Making sure I leave no room for argument, I tell her, "I wouldn't fuck you even if you were the last bitch on earth. I would go as far as turning to beastiality before I ever fuck my dick into you."

-Ronan- I've spent the past two days in Rome, making calls and talking to old acquaintances. Italian vampires are part of the underworld of the underworld, and they know pretty much everyone's business. My Italian contacts don't seem to know much about Desmond's latest antics, though they make it clear that his existence is only tolerated because he's Carlota's husband. And regardless of what the rest of the vampire world thinks, Carlota is still like royalty to them. She reigns supreme in Italy, so I know she'll be able to get more information than I could possibly hope to obtain.