Don Cognac And Angel Porn Novels & Stories

The large room suddenly felt small as his lips grazed her ears slowly, shivers ran through her to her core, her legs weak and face flushed, pale. A low Grunt erupted from his throat as he sniffed her, he breathed in her scent of lavender and lemon detergents, she smelt so fucking nice, she always did. "Take off your clothes Adira" he whispered She stayed still, she knew this was wrong but nodded steadily and did as was told.

He cleared her throat once and entered the quadrado, pushing the bar cart. "Good evening sir, I'm Carnation, your server tonight," she began. They have a rule in the Casa de Lujuria, as the server of a VIP guest— always smile and don't forget to mention your name. Carnation frowned when the VIP guest ignored her, not even looking at her, so she continued, "Here's your Rémy Martin Fine Champagne Cognac VSOP, 40% alcohol by volume, with a cork stopper, 750 milliliters..." Carnation is not accustomed to alcohol. But Mist strongly recommends that she should study the types of alcohol, so when she is at home or in the hospital she really takes time to study them.

he stops in front of me "I'm wondering why I could smell alcohol all over you from across the yard" I stood back, tilted my head in amusement. "I'm sorry, are you a judge now?" " Now no, " he spreads his arms out in surrender " I'm just concerned about you" "I wonder why you may be concerned about me, Nigel" "There's been news about you circling the internet. About the legendary Logan DeAngelo drinking away in cheap club houses and pubs. And there's been a lot of impressive comments on these posts though. Many woman who are sexually attracted to you, hoping to stumble across you one day and take advantage of that "

⚠️ Content Warning: This chapter contains mature themes, sexual content, and emotionally intense moments intended for adult audiences (18+). Reader discretion is advised. Please note: Scenes include consensual BDSM elements, dominance/submission dynamics, and emotionally charged intimacy. If these themes are not for you, feel free to skip or read with caution. 💮Angel💮 "You have a beautiful villa, Mr. D'Amano," Luca complimented, his eyes roaming the space with admiration.

Sincerly, Angel Franco

Don Dillon, the owner of AGN, said, emerging from a hidden room inside the bar. Ixora and Ken the banister both breathed a sigh of relief simultaneously. Thank fuck, there wouldn't be a scene tonight. Don Dillon was in his early forties, a menacing figure covered in tattoos all over his body, with a single earring dangling from one ear. He was also incredibly wealthy, being the owner of A-Good-Night and other notorious clubs in Castle Lore. Nobody knew why the man refused to marry, even though everyone was aware he was a rich manwhore. Ixora was relieved that he hadn't had the chance to get into her twin's panties, or her twin into his shorts.

Cool fingers met his heated skin. ‘Cold!’ Angel whimpered and squirmed. “W-what is that?” he asked in-between kisses. The asshole answered simply: “Lube.” He poured it all. “Of course, you’re a fucking boy scout, you damned incubus…” his face was red as hell. The man only chuckled on the nickname. “You are a literal demon scout leader!” Angel continued. The devil laughed out loud again. Then one slick hand wrapped around Angel’s hardness. Pumped. Firm.

I licked my lips and looked up at him. "That was um, very hot," I mumbled softly and pulled away when I saw the bottle of cognac. I hurried to the decanter and took a big swig to calm my frayed nerves. Deagon watched me curiously and his eyes widened at me drinking his stash. "That's made for reapers," he stated firmly and grabbed the decanter from my hand. "I don't understand how you can see reapers, drink our liquor, and kiss me, it's all very confusing," he mumbled softly and sat the crystal decanter on the table. He glanced at me and grinned devilishly.

The drunk seemed to think about that for a moment before turning to the door and letting Chang lead him out. I heaved a sigh of relief but as I was about to sit, I noticed Dora whispering to Angel. The moment our eyes met, Angel got a mischievous smile on her face. “What?” I mindlinked her. Angel’s laugh made it through the link. “Dora’s asking me what kind of weird sex tastes you have. Since she’s being called a sex slave, she thinks you’re a sadist or a masochist.” “And what did you tell her?”