Cuentos Para Dormir De Amor Novels & Stories

He leaned down, kissing sloppy, tongue invading. His pace quickened, cock swelling. "Here it comes, baby." Hot spurts filled me, overflowing. He collapsed on top, breathing heavy. We lay tangled, his dick softening inside., "Can't get enough of you." I stroked his back. "Me neither. Sneak over tomorrow?" Next day, Mom went shopping. Ryan cornered me in the laundry room. Door barely shut, he hiked my skirt, fingers in my panties. "No bra today? Naughty girl." He bent me over the dryer, cock out and hard.

I saw Adrian, still crouched in a corner, watching us in misery. He followed us all the way to a villa district but couldn't enter. From a distance, he stared at our windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of me forgiving him. Late that night, Caleb turned off the lights. As our shadows slowly collapsed onto the bed together, I heard a deafening roar. Caleb covered my ears and pressed his lips against mine in frustration. "Darling, focus. Don't listen to those barking dogs." I giggled and sank into the tidal wave of his love.

I couldn’t sleep all through the long night, no matter how much I tossed and turned. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind went to a dark, forbidden place. I kept dreaming about Dave, about how he could fuck me and tear me apart in the best way. It was a constant, pulsing thought that made my skin itch. I stayed awake for hours, just staring at the shadows on the ceiling. By the time the room started to brighten, it was morning already. I knew Mother could walk in at any time, but I felt paralyzed.

Flat. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’d come to America to write love stories, to become C.A. Noite, the name that sounded mysterious and romantic, the one I thought would one day be printed on book covers in bold, swoony fonts. But right now, C.A. Noite felt like a fraud.

Their connection was primal, yet tender, a dance of desire and devotion that left no room for doubt. As the night deepened, their passion burned brighter, a flame that would never be extinguished. The moon watched over them, its silent witness to the love that had finally found its expression. In that bedroom, under the silvery glow, Christen and Liora became one—not just in body, but in soul. Their story, written in whispers and touches, was a testament to the power of love, the strength of their bond, and the unyielding force of their shared destiny. They drifted off to sleep exhausted.

This is the witching hour. I hear the sheets move at the stir of a body. The bed creaks, feet pad close. The curtains pull aside, open to the dark and the warmth of the room. Of him—bed and sleep heated. I know that smell well; so many nights I’ve lain beside his sleeping figure and inhaled the air he exudes in sleep. Heat and sweat and sweetness, redolent of the weight of dreams. He slips in beside me, letting the dark into my little light hidey-hole. The rain has stopped. The moonlight shines on him and silvers his naked body, rendering his brown flesh pale.

It's already five o'clock in the morning, and her trip to Greece is only a few hours away. They fucked all night. Channy can't even remember how many times she came, and each time she did, she shed more tears. Fortunately, she was able to find a method to divert Rome so that he wouldn't be able to question her why she continued crying, and she succeeded even though it was already early morning when they came to a halt. She pressed her palm against Rome's cheeks. She traced his jaw, brow, and nose. She stroked his eyelids, then his lips. She wanted to remember every detail of the handsome face of the first man she loved, to whom she had given everything.

Like I was something he wasn’t allowed to touch and wanted anyway. “You think about me,” I said. Not a question. His jaw worked. He didn’t answer, but the color came up his neck, and that was answer enough. “At night,” I said. “In your room. You think about me.” “Sister—” “Say it.” A long pause. The candle by the altar guttered, throwing his shadow long across the stone floor. “Yes,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I think about you.” I took his hand and put it on my breast.

I kept tossing and turning throughout the entire night. I couldn’t sleep. It was like any time I closed my eyes, the image of them tangled up together would flash in my mind and I would lose sleep when that happened. It was getting really frustrating. I wanted to sleep but I just couldn’t. I tried counting sheep, but anytime I got drowsy enough and closed my eyes, the images returned. Tears of frustration brimmed at the edge of my eyes. I got out of bed and headed downstairs, hoping maybe a warm glass of milk would do it.