Devil's Lock Hair Novels & Stories

I gasp. He fists my hair at the nape of my neck and yanks my head back, twisting it so I can look him in the eyes as he corrects my words, “The only one that you should be worshipping is me, and I am no God.” He leans in, biting my lower lip, drawing my blood, and licking it. He smiles down at me wickedly, and says, “I am the Devil incarnate, baby,” as he thrusts hard and deep, pretty much hitting my cervix each time. “Oh, Sir, I’m going to come!” I moan.

Maddy has no right to say her daughter’s name using that filthy mouth. “You bitch!” She grabbed her by the hair and pinned her back to the wall and gave her a hard slap on the face. “Unhand me! Now!” Maddy fights back but she’s defenseless against the raging fury of Devon. “No, I won’t! I’ve been trying to hold back myself but I can’t do it now. I wanted to rip your face this instant!” She twisted her hair in her hand and pulled a handful of strands. Maddy looked at the amount of her hair in Devon’s hand and shrieked. “My hair! What did you do to my hair?!”

Someone was sniffing on my bed, or rather, on my hair. With further more concentration, I registered an arm laying over my stomach. Then I felt the tiniest movement from my right, as if some creature was nuzzling my neck. Slowly, cautiously, I opened my eyes and narrowed them at the arm that was still holding me. When the arm didn't move itself from my point of vision, I trailed my eyes up the arm and shifted slightly, coming face to face with a devil who was sniffing my hair in his sleep. My eyes narrowed further. This particular devil looked cute, at least he did in his sleep, with his long eyebrows fanning his cheeks and his lips pursed like a baby. But that did not mean he could sleep ne

“You’ll do what?...” The devil returned to his eyes as he snarled, his rage palpable. He launched at me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking it harshly. My head was forced back, my face tilting upward to meet his. The sharp pain in my scalp made me grit my teeth, struggling to stifle the agony.

Logan used the opportunity to assess the man closely. Logan saw him as a man of unwavering determination and conviction. With his jet-black, short hair framing his face, his hazel eyes appeared to radiate a resolute intensity. They were sharp and observant, reflecting his keen instincts and unwavering focus when facing the forces of darkness.

Her fresh sent, still wet hair, tinny droplets falling on her head, her smooth skin, the fact she sat just below his membrane cherry on top the cream which is enjoying what’s his drove him crazy awakening the Devil inside him He without any warring pulled her down holding her legs, startling her, the bowl in her hand reached the floor saying bye-bye to her, she looked up and gulped hard seeing his eyes which turned into dark grey in desire. He placed his lips on her in such urgency as his life depended on it, his kiss was deep, she found it hard to breathe, but the hungry devil was not satisfied, He started to devour her lips like a beast making them more swollen, she’d push his shoulder jus

Maybe start planning my next escape for real this time. And then—he did something that caught me off guard. Ronan Blackwood, the Devil himself, squatted in front of me. Not stood. Not loomed. Squatted. Eye level. Holding two glasses of wine in his large hands. “What’s the problem?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. I looked away. “I’m fine,” I muttered.

They had no intention of departing. He turned abruptly and mumbled, "Perhaps another way." He walked over to the closest window and tugged at its distorted frame, but it would not move. Emery was aware of what he would discover. They were surrounded by the manor's jaws. A frigid, featherlight whisper coiled on her ear. "You belong to it now." She spun around, but nothing was there. Just the pressure of invisible eyeballs on her flesh. She looked up at the large portrait above the fireplace. She had previously seen it and experienced its uncanny familiarity. Aurelia D'Valois, whose sharp jawline mirrored Emery's, was painted in black silks. However, there was a problem.

Then, in a sharp motion, he yanked her by the hair, forcing her to look into his eyes. “I never liked anyone who took what’s mine,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. Hema gasped, struggling against him, but he was too strong. Her dupatta fell from her head, revealing her delicate neckline and trembling shoulders. Zayden’s eyes darkened. She suddenly felt cold—exposed. Then, he pulled the thread at the back of her blouse to humiliate her. Hema froze. The loose knot unraveled, and the delicate blouse shifted, baring her back completely.

Wolves collided with the shadows of those wings, thrown across the room as blood and instant death erupted. Vivica froze, eyes wide, her chest rising as she watched the devil himself descend upon them. The dark blue aura surrounding him pressed against her burning skin, sending a thrill along her heated skin, and desire, through her. All the rumors about him turned out to be true. He was the Devil. The real Devil. Finn stepped forward deliberately, each movement slow, lethal, deliberate. He stopped just in front of her, the room now deathly silent except for the beat of her pulsing heat.