Devotion And Desire Novels & Stories

If I am to describe her, she's like a very clear blank canvas and that she sucks my very being with her icy stares. She's like an easy to read book but somehow influences me in a very profound way. I don't know why, but she's an extremely interesting woman. But now, am I such a lucky duck? As a man of God, I do have some occasional thoughts of reproducing humanity with her, especially when she's dressed with body tight work outfits. But I am not some pervert that just can't control his desires, I only have these thoughts sometimes because I really admire her. Yet I still can't imagine the reason why she's doing this to me.

Sexually charged and tempting as hell. And until we break that mate bond, it’s always going to be that way. Which means that no matter how much I care for Colin and want to be exclusively with him, my body will always have an urge to be with Tate as well. And not just any urge, a freaking ache. For someone who only wants me physically. Well, I want someone who wants me in every way. And Colin does. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I turn around and barge determinedly through the door again.

I chuckled a bit and he smirked at me. “My intentions are holy, sweetheart,” he said throwing his drink down his throat and eyes trailed over my busting cleavage, as he licked his lips to induce the art of seduction. This man, he was making me feel….naked. My chest rose up and down and his eyes followed every movement. “So much coming from a man with the name of a devil,”

"You make it so easy to believe that you're just a piece of matter orbiting around the earth." He slid down to the ground and opened the door of his car. "This time around, I'll suppress my intrinsic appetitive desire to consume you as much as I can and focus on flourishing and devising strategic ways to attack instead. I came to an epiphany that my staunch obsession renders me unwary, making me pregnable to your irksome guardians--oh, the thought of them infuriates me!" He smashed his hand to the car out of fury as he remembered all its failed attempts, especially the ones where it's almost close to victory but still ended up in chagrin.

while Maria got all her father's love and affection, Amber got heads turning everywhere she went because of her extraordinary beauty and tender soul. "Happy birthday sister and congratulations,dad and I have the best present for you I can barely contain my excitement. I am sure you will DIE for it." She said emphasising the word die. Amber paid no attention to her sister but decided to sit and wait for her to finish her blubbering because she knew better than to walk away from her bossy sister would get her in trouble with the father.

but my very spirit endlessly perverted by speculation concerning whatever delirious dance this upstart pretender and I are enacting upon the stage? I'm panting like a winded cur by the climax of this maddening self-interrogation. Every pulse pounding with the seething refusal to let this ridiculously inflated farce go any further. To allow my transcendent destiny among legends to remain forever toxified by a poisonous infatuation for my sworn enemy.

“Not from him. Not from me. What you’re trying to burn away isn’t corruption. It’s-” Desire. But he didn’t say that. Not with his mouth. Only his eyes said it, when they locked with Valcoz’s. And Valcoz saw it. Felt it. Even behind all the divine chains and incantations carved into his bones, he felt Jacquiem’s want. The priest. The human. The devout little lamb who once knelt with tears in his eyes, whispering prayers to a god that never answered him, Now staring at him with more need than all the rituals ever wrung out of his soul.

“That’s the one thing I can’t seem to write.” “Why not?” he asked. “Because I don’t know how to describe it without sounding fake.” He studied me for a moment. “Maybe that’s because you think desire is only about the physical. But it isn’t.” I met his gaze, waiting. He continued, “Desire can be wanting to understand someone completely. It can be curiosity, admiration, or even silence between two people who can’t stop thinking about each other. It’s not always about touch.” His voice was low, steady, almost thoughtful enough to make the room feel smaller.

“She will.” I watched her pace now. She touched the edge of the window frame, as if testing it for weakness. Her fingers were delicate, but not soft. They were the hands of someone who fought, someone who lived through pain. I liked that about her. I liked that she didn’t cower and I liked that she still hated me. Desire was never about affection, it was about possession. Love fades, I’ve seen it fade in centuries past, burn bright and die out just as quickly, but obsession… that stays. When I want something, I keep it. That’s the only truth that matters.

Not flawless, but devoted. The house, once filled with quiet shadows, laughter that had faded too soon, and the lingering ache of past mistakes, was now filled with small joys: the soft gurgle of a newborn, the faint squeak of a crib, the warmth of shared smiles between two people learning together. Devon carried the weight of responsibility with humility, sometimes with awe, but always with unwavering commitment. Each day, each night, each gentle touch, each whispered reassurance was a promise renewed.