Romans & histoires Cupid Tangled

His arms still stayed in my underpants as he shrugged at the screen and pulled the phone to his ear. My hips buckled at the loss, every nerve ending needing his touch, longing for him to drop that phone and return to what he was doing to me. He lingered on his phone for what felt like an eternity, when it was only a few seconds. The fire and sparks in my body couldn’t hold on. I couldn’t wait, when suddenly he looked my way. Something shifted. His gaze darkened, changed. Fear prickled through me, and I shifted slightly on the desk just as the knock came. The door flung open with a sudden force, revealing Lady Lilian.

Exhaling deeply, Camden released the tension from her body, savouring the weight of Clayton resting against her. Clayton, lying against her chest, listened to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. His fingertips gently stroked her ribs, his touch tender and loving. Breaking the comfortable silence, he turned to face her. "So, no tattoos for you?" he asked playfully. "I mean, I didn't see any on you, and I did a pretty thorough search." Camden smiled, her eyes filled with amusement. "No, no tattoos for me," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of contemplation. "It feels like a really serious commitment, and I've never felt like I could commit to anything that seriously." Raising an eyebro

In the blink of an eye, I was in the presence of Cupid and grasped his wings so that he could not escape. "A-forgive me!" he screamed in panic. This sucks. "Hey, tell me where you used to meet handsome men!" Instead of answering my question, the damn Cupid gawked at me with a puzzled look. "Hey!" I exclaimed, annoyed. The Cupid immediately stammered and pointed to a skyscraper that looked very conspicuous, not far from our place. "D-there!"Cupid exclaimed nervously. "What place is that?" "The biggest entertainment agency building on Earth. There is where handsome men, and beautiful women gather!"

He stared at it for a while and the expression on his face was obvious that something was wrong. Andrea turned to look around and was met with Phillip’s unusual gaze. “What's wrong? Andrea asked Phillip. Why are you suddenly staring at your phone like you have seen a ghost?” Phillip waited for a while, before passing his phone to Andrea. Christine posted a video, which was quickly circulating the Internet. About her engagement with the CEO of Hazel Group. Andrea couldn't believe it. How could she? He was furious, the anger in his eyes was obvious. “Calm down Andrea,” Phillip tried to calm him but he was already upset.

I applied a swipe of lipstick, then turned to see Kirill, my boyfriend, dressed in his tuxedo, looking as handsome as ever. As he approached me, circling one arm around my waist, I couldn't help but smile up at him. Adjusting his tie, I felt his hand cup my cheek, his thumb caressing it gently. Leaning in, he cupped my jaw, and our lips met in a tender kiss. Despite the months that had passed since I was shot, I could still see the fear in Kirill's eyes, the fear of losing me.

By the time they were done talking and Connor had seen them out, he came back and gently brushed his fingers across my cheek. "Have you been crying?" he asked. Only then did I realize my face was wet with tears. "Connor, you're getting married. You said–" But before I could finish, Connor cut me off with a chuckle. "Marry the girl next door who's ten years younger than me? Baby, people would say I'm a creep. You might not care, but I still have my pride." It felt like I had been plunged into an ice bath. Connor and I had known each other for five years.

“Where’s the heartbreak? The cheating scandals? The unexpected plot twists?” Gladz chuckled, shaking her head. “Not everyone wants their love life to be a soap opera.” Cassie shot up, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, you’re missing out. Love is supposed to be thrilling. The push and pull, the angst, the desperation—” She clutched her chest like some tragic heroine. “Will they? Won’t they? It’s the spice of life!” Mica snorted. “Cass, you’ve been watching too many trashy telenovelas.”

They stood entwined, breaths syncing in the heated cocoon. No frenzy. No desperation. Just profound belonging. Then— He descended. Aching slow, eyes locked, granting her every second to pull away. She didn’t. Their lips met in a symphony of silk and heat—soft at first, exploratory, then deepening as she arched into him. Tongues danced, tasting coffee and longing, hands roaming with reverent greed—his fingers threading her hair, hers clutching his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. The kiss was a vow sealed in fire: certain, consuming, unhurried bliss that left them both trembling, alive.