Devil's Lock Hair Novels & Stories

Every hair on my body stands up and I slowly look toward Pierre again to see he's smiling and watching me creepily ike a wolf waiting for dinner. My hands begin to tremble... What happened to his first wife?? Did he... No. Don't think about it, Barbara, Don't...

I clenched my fists so tight that my knuckles turned white, and the blood under my skin seemed to boil. "They think they have won," I laughed darkly. The sound echoed through the empty hall, cold and cruel. "They think that by taking her, they found my weakness. They think they can break me." I looked up at Dimitri, and I saw him flinch under my gaze. "They are wrong," I hissed, my voice dripping with poison. "They didn't find my weakness. They awakened the beast. They awakened the Devil." Images flashed through my mind like lightning.

She walked to the door on feet that felt like they belonged to someone else. She opened the door. And standing there was the Devil of Vercelli, Alessandro. He was not wearing a shirt. His chest was still bare, still speckled with dried blood that he had not bothered to wash off. His hair was loose and wild around his face. His grey eyes were not focused. They drifted across her face, her dress, her bare feet, and then back to her face, and they did not seem to quite land anywhere. He reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke. The smell was strong, almost overwhelming, the smell of a man who had been drinking alone in a dark room for hours.

It startled even him. Before Ayla could breathe another word, his hand came up, threading into her hair, pulling her closer. His lips crashed onto hers, rough at first—hungry, desperate, like a drowning man clawing at air. She gasped against him, startled, but then melted into the kiss, her fingers curling tight in his shirt as though she had been waiting for this too.

My hand barely touched the bedroom door before his fingers locked around my waist. “Get back here, baby,” he growled, voice dark and dripping sex. “I’m not done fucking you.” I groaned, half-laughing, half-melting. “I swear, you’re possessed.” He yanked me back, mouth on my neck, cock already hard against my ass. “You’re the only one who can handle this Devil.” And maybe he’s right. Because I am the nurse who patches him up when he breaks, and he’s the devil who makes my blood boil and my heart race.

His skin was peeled off and had black burnt patches. "Black Tiger, let's beat that guy up!" The White Lion was annoyed and angry. He wanted to finish him right away. "Let's do it!" Black Tiger darted quickly and pulled out panther claws from all ten of his fingernails. The claws were not real claws, but a special heirloom made of hard metal from the black meteor. The Black Tiger swung his palm. He clawed at the Black Demon Swordsman's chest and kicked him. WHAT?! The Black Demon Swordsman was surprised by the appearance of the Black Tiger. The White Lion immediately moved and removed the fire rope from the Ranau Baringin king's body.

Wrist chained hair disheveled, dirty and messy white robe with mouth tied up by a black demonic pet. She wondered why he didn't use his spell to seal her mouth instead of going with the extra work of turning his demonic pet into a band just to wrap it around her mouth. It was straightforward, he yearned to make her look even more vulnerable.

The picture in which Aslan was standing behind Ezra gripping her breasts with both hands. “Yes, this one…. please zoom a bit… yes ...sufficient … here his left hand … look at it … here in the picture on the left hand has some corner hair with a mole but my client doesn’t possess it.” I observed minutely at the picture. He was right. Aslan has no hair on his hand and most precisely he has soft hair only on his chest. How didn't I notice this? I was so devastated at that time that I didn't notice any such difference and neither it caught my attention. I was so blinded by jealousy and hurt at that time.

I heard the shower running and made my way there. “Can you believe that bastard?!” I almost shouted. Cara let out a scream as I barged in. I ignored her and sat on the toilet lid. “Could you at least knock?! What if I was shaving?” “Sorry. Back to my problem.” I said dismissively, and she poked her head out of the shower to look at me. “I talked to the Devil.” “What Devil?” “That Devil, Damiano.” “Ah. Why? Miss him?” She winked, but I only scowled.

Fiona sat down as Delilah tucked her hair in a bun. She would be lying if she said she wasn't afraid of Delilah going manic and yanking her hair off her scalp. Delilah seemed calmed and was gentle with her hair, she did a neat bun and even acessorized it with diamond hair clips.