Romans & histoires Cruel Passion

he cursed before claiming my lips in a fiery kiss. How could someone so abominable feel so heavenly? I moaned against his mouth as he inserted his finger into me. My legs trembled as he drove me to the edge with every stroke of his swift fingers. “Do you still want to leave?” he asked increasing his pace. I would barely think of anything else except for how good his fingers felt and how badly I wanted…needed to cum. “I will stop.” I quickly held his hand in place, if I wasn’t too busy grinding my waist against his finger, desperate for sweet release, I would have been surprised.

"You're cruel... twisted..." "Cruel?" He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to my lips, forcing me to taste us. "Taste your sin, Clara. That's the flavor of your guilt—sweet and filthy." I licked instinctively, the salty tang making my core clench emptily. He growled in approval, positioning himself at my entrance, the broad head of his cock nudging against my folds. "Twisted? Yes. But you love it. Your pussy's clenching just thinking about me slamming into you." With a single, brutal thrust, he sheathed himself fully, the stretch burning anew, making me cry out in a blend of agony and ecstasy.

It was as if his passion had completely died out for the wife he once adored and loved so much. Daniel had absolutely no desire for Helen, but he let his wife play with his already fully tense perfect. While Helen was still busy with her hot activities, her bottom was getting wet and twitching begging to be satisfied. But Daniel seemed passive, as if not interested in him. Because of the lust that was already blazing now Helen was actually toying with her own with one hand, while her mouth was still busy giving pleasure to Daniel's perfectly tense missile, making Helen's body even hotter because it was burned by the passion that flaming.

She muttered softly. She is not interested in this marriage. Absolutely not. It was very strange for her to suddenly marry someone she didn't know before. Does that man know herself? Angel began to think rationally, according to her, a relationship exists when the two feel compatible. And before that, both of them must have understood the nature and character of each. Those who meet every day are unlikely to fall in love with each other. Then, what about her who never met that man? She is not easy to put hers trust in someone. It was so difficult for her to do.

Even with the flowers and air fresheners in the chapel, sometimes we could feel a waft of air heavy with the smell of burned meat. Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fire. It was stronger than reason. A masochistic need to torture myself. The worst physical pain Iris had ever faced was when Sara, her best friend, shut the car door and crushed her hand, breaking four of her fingers all at once. The pain was so intense that my sister peed herself in front of everyone. The urine ran down her pencil skirt while she screamed in agony. I remember how she looked at Sara—the one we’d known since childhood, the one who did Iris's homework, who spent hours at our house, who rolled out a red car

I cried out, my voice a symphony of need and desperation that echoed in the confined space around us. “Sweetheart,” Marius murmured, his voice a soothing balm amidst the storm of passion that engulfed us. Our gazes locked, sparking with a fiery intensity that mirrored the passion igniting between us. Every glance exchanged between us fueled the flames of desire burning within, pushing us toward the peak of ecstasy. In those electrifying moments, I embraced my true desires, shedding the layers of denial that had veiled my deepest cravings. The truth was undeniable—I longed for the intoxicating rush of multiple orgasms, a craving that intensified with each tantalizing touch from Marius.

he whispered, his voice barely audible. Lucifer’s hips thrust forward, filling Allistair in one swift, powerful movement. Allistair cried out, his body stretching to accommodate Lucifer’s size. The pain was intense, but the pleasure that followed was even more overwhelming. Lucifer’s movements were rough and unyielding, each thrust a claim, a promise, a reminder of the bond that transcended time and reality. Allistair met him stroke for stroke, his body yielding and demanding in equal measure. The stone wall behind him was cold and unyielding, but the heat of their passion made it seem distant and insignificant.

“The storm is not a melody for a creature of lust to play with.” “But it is,” she insisted, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. She reached out, not touching him, but letting her hand hover near the bare skin of his chest. The air between her fingertips and his skin spat and crackled with tiny, eager sparks. “Is lust not a force of nature? Is the peak of passion not its own kind of cataclysm? I believe our natures are not so different. Let me learn. Let me feel.”

My brain screams inside. Cree jerks his sculpted frame away just as my climax is about to drive right off Mount Everest, but it quickly fades as the friction stops. I take a deep breath; I must have been holding off for air until I hit my peak. Cree stares at me, his grip tighter on me. No longer are his eyes filled with lust, only anger. I try to swallow against his palm. He swiftly tosses me on the bed like a feather. Glaring down at me, livid, Cree’s lips part, speaking. “Who’s pathetic now?” He growls, adjusts his junk, and walks out.

His rough stubble pricked against her skin, that delicious abrasion was heightening the sensual sensation. His hands cupped her face, holding her in place for his ravaging mouth. He nipped at her skin, his teeth a gentle threat that was sending shivers coursing through her. She didn’t forget to notice his eyes which were burning with desire, not leaving hers even for a second. It was not a gentle lover's caress, rather a raw, untamed ruthless igniting passion that was directly burning her soul and skin. Anna was drowning into his passion while his smell was another thing that turned her on more. The way his cologne mixed with his natural pheromones was creating a unique and irresistible comb