Draco Kissing Hermione Novels & Stories

“I’ve got you,” His free hand finds my waist again, keeping me anchored. “I won’t let go unless you tell me to.” My breath hitches but I don't move away, still fixing my gaze back at him. Water droplets cling to his eyelashes and his hair is slicked back from his face, his blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. Fuck. He looks so dreamy and beautiful and utterly unguarded with me. I wonder if I look the same to him too. Gently, the water laps at our shoulders, cool against my heated skin that is burning for his touch. Our eyes are still locked on each other, our faces merely inches apart. I want him. I want him so much that I don't want to stop wanting him. This pull between us has tortured me long enough and for so long, I have fought it. Restrained it. But now, I am done fighting it. Without warning, I cup his face and crash my lips to his mouth, shutting my eyes and damning the consequences. He takes in a sharp breath, an adrenaline of desire rushing through me like wildfire at the sound before he pulls me flush against him, his lips kissing me back with a hunger that instantly fuels the fire blazing through my veins. My hands move up and fist into his wet hair, tugging at the strands and drawing out a pleasurable groan from him. He wants me. He craves me just as much as I crave him. And I am glad we're both on the same page of this temptation. ~ They stole my powers, murdered my loved ones, and killed me. But now, I am back for vengeance—and the Lycan Prince is mine!

“Shush” he cuts her off. “Raise up your skirt right now” “Master…” He cuts in again. “Raise up your skirt right now and don’t make me repeat myself” She took a deep breathe, this is not the first time he has punished her this way, It started a month ago. “Okay master” She raised up her uniform skirt and her white panties came to view, his eyes bulging out. He swallowed. “You’re beautiful, it’s like each time you raise that beautiful skirt of yours up, it’s my first. Come here, I want you to see yourself” he hold her by the hand and takes her to the mirror. “Look at yourself, you’re beautiful. Your legs are slender and you’ve got such a nice crutch” he admires her as she watches herself, her skirt still raised. He bent down and began to kiss her legs, kissing all the way up to her neck. He grabbed her ass from behind trailing kisses om her beck before one of his hand rested oh her boobs and the other went into her panties rubbing her clit and squeezing her full boobs hard. “I heard you’re a virgin too” he moaned as he nibbled her ear continuing his attack on her innocent body. “Are you done master?” She asked ready to run away and go confess her sinful thoughts and to put her body to punishment for wanting more. “Done? Oh honey, I’m just getting started with you” with that he released her boobs from the shackles of a bra and tore her shirt pressing her to the mirror, he breast on it waiting and screaming to be sucked. “What a lewd thought!” She quarrels herself. He dragged her pant up, seperating her pussy lips with it.

It had been five years since I started dating Ross Jenner. His family invited my mother and me to their family home in Fellaton to discuss our wedding plans and to spend Valentine's Day together. It was past 10:00 PM when my mother and I landed, but Ross wasn't there to pick us up because his college junior, Laurel Elledge, had just arrived in Fellaton. He told me to figure out a way to get a cab to the house myself. In a strange place, unfamiliar with the area, it wasn't long before we found ourselves in danger. Just over ten minutes outside the airport, we were robbed. My mother was injured while trying to protect me, and she collapsed, bleeding heavily. Desperate, I held onto her, frantically trying to call Ross. Each call was abruptly cut off, and when I finally reached him, he sounded irritated. "Jennifer, you're an adult, so stop acting like a child. You couldn't even hail a cab on the street? Laurel just got to Fellaton and isn't feeling well. I need to take care of her." Without waiting for a response, he hung up. I tried calling again, only to find that I had been blocked. In the end, my mother's injuries were too severe, and she bled out before the doctors could save her. As I stared at her lifeless body, tears flowed uncontrollably. When I finally checked my phone again, the first thing I saw was a picture Ross had posted on Twitter. In the photo, he was kissing Laurel and holding a bouquet of roses. [Spending Valentine's Day with the one I love most.] I quietly threw the gifts I had brought from home into the trash. Then, I left a comment, which said, [Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness.]

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

Russell James called me plain. He said I didn't have what it took to drive a man crazy, then crawled back into bed with the supermodel he'd been hiding from me. I found out the hard way, with my own eyes and what little dignity I had left. By then, he'd already signed his professional football contract, become a rising star, and decided I was no longer in his league. A year later, my life is falling apart. My mother's surgery is unaffordable. My younger brother's hockey dreams are slipping away. My final semester fees are overdue. Then my half-sister offers me a deal. Seduce a powerful fashion executive at an elite Madrid nightclub and help secure her place in Europe's most prestigious fashion show. In return, my family's problems disappear. I say yes. I spend the night with the man she described. By morning, I discover I've slept with the wrong man. "Connor?" he repeats, amused. "My name's Andre." Andre Fernandez. Real Numancia de Madrid's golden boy. Europe's most sought-after footballer. Forty-eight million followers. A €150 million market value. And the biggest rival of the ex-boyfriend who shattered my heart. Before I can process what happened, Andre finds me. He clears my family's debts and makes one impossible demand: "Be my girlfriend." I say no. Andre Fernandez clearly isn't used to hearing that word. When paparazzi catch us kissing at a high-profile party, the internet explodes. To save Andre's reputation, his PR team pushes us into a fake relationship complete with staged appearances, rehearsed interviews, and public displays of affection. None of it is supposed to be real. Except the longer we pretend, the harder it becomes to remember where the performance ends. Russell sees the photographs and is annoyed at his rival's proximity to me.

“Paige Miller. Stay here for a bit.” He said when my foot was already out the door. I swallowed hard and looked at Darla who just shrugged and closed the door. I was alone with the hot Callan Montgomery Holden. “So, Paige. I thought you were a bartender.” “And I thought you were just a rich asshole kissing girls all day. Never would've peg you for a CEO, boss.” “Hmm. You're funny. I like you.” “Please don't.” I said and he chuckled again. He bit his lower lip, and I could feel myself wanting to hump him right there on his swiveling chair. “You're thinking the same thing I am, right?” “That I should report you to HR for sexual harassment?” “Ha! Good one. But no. I know you want me too. Right here right now. I can feel you getting hot and wet.” “From the way you kissed me, last night? Sorry, but no. Besides, I'm married.” I lied. I realized I was being stupid and reckless when I remembered it was very specific in the job listing that I had to be single with no kids. “Okay, look. I'm not married, but I'm not interested either. I can't afford to be your next plaything. I need this job to save enough money to start my own small business and not work for anyone ever again. So, please. I know you're probably a great guy, but I'm just not interested. So, if there's nothing else you need professionally, good day, Mr. Holden.” “Sure. But they always say that at first. You'll come around.” If I didn’t have a daughter to think of, I'd have made you come in my mouth already you rich spoiled brat!" I wanted to say, but of course absolutely couldn't.

"You don’t know what you’re playing with." He murmured, His hand traced a slow path down my arm, fingers firm but deliberate, sending a shiver straight to my core. "You are scared" “I’m not.” I whispered. He smiled. “You should be.” Before I could think, he closed the distance, his lips crashing onto mine, rough, urgent, claiming and fierce, consuming fire of his touch. "I can't stop. I don't won't to." Then he claimed my lips again. And soon, my lips moved. I was kissing back. This shouldn’t be happening. Just then footsteps echoed. “Rylan—stop, someone’s coming—” But his hands only gripped my waist tighter, holding me still. he whispered. “Let them. I don’t care.” then his lips crashed against mine, harder. I tried turning away but he grabbed my neck and stuck his tongue into my mouth. "Rylan please." my eyes dart to the door. "Stop." I struggled. His hand slipped down to grab my ass. Squeezing it tightly. "If you weren't wearing a jean, I would have stuck my fingers right into your holes. Fuck." He hissed then continued. A light knock sounded at the door followed by the twisting handle. No! ★ Some-secrets are born in fire... and some desires, forged in darkness. Alyssa Milano carries a past she can’t outrun-one soaked in blood, silence, and a secret that could ruin her. At fifteen, her innocence was stolen. Rylan Russo is danger, ruthless, powerful, and used to getting what he wants. When he sets sights on Alyssa, their worlds collide in a storm of obsession and desire. Is this a love story tocall? In a world where trust is poison and passion is a weapon, Alyssa must choose her path. A dark, twisted romance where survival comes at a cost.

Five years ago, my then girlfriend betrayed me for Ethan Reid. Together, they staged a car accident that killed both my parents. Then they hired someone to assault and murder my younger sister, who wasn't even sixteen, and framed me for it. I was thrown in prison where I suffered every day. It was Serena Cole who risked everything to become my defense attorney. She cleared my name and courted me with everything she had. She told me I was all she could see, that I was her whole world. When I finally gave her my whole heart, I looked down from upstairs and saw her kissing Ethan like she couldn't get enough of him, days before our wedding. Right there in our wedding car, they crossed every line. "Bold move, bride. Not worried the groom might see?" Ethan whispered. "His legs are crippled because of you. You know better than anyone whether he can even make it downstairs," Serena replied. "What's this, feeling guilty now? Every dirty thing I ever did to him, you were the one who planned it. You want me to tell him that?" "If you say a word, I swear I'll take you down with me," came her ragged response. Ethan bit her ear roughly, driving her over the edge. "Sure, sure. I know you love him so much. So doesn't this make it even more exciting? Say it. Who's your daddy?" She broke apart beneath him, saying his name over and over, breathless and undone. The tears hit me before I could stop them. She had known. All along, she had known everything that happened to me. And not only that, she had helped plan it.

Jessiah is a make-up artist aspiring to break into the modeling and beauty industry. She moves to LA when she lands a job at one of the biggest production companies in Hollywood. On her first week on the job, she meets Jenson Ross, a big-deal actor with a murky past and a dark secret only a privileged few know about. × Genres: Romance, Werewolf, Crime EXCERPT [BOOK I of CALI ALPHAS ] _ _ _ "Dollface," he murmured with a little smirk. He snickered and caressed the back of her head, pulling her closer to his chest. "You're like an antidepressant, in human form." Her breath caught.  Her heart sped up when his hug tightened. His warm face pressed onto her neck, his strong hands lightly squeezing her hips. Moments like this only worsened her attraction to him.  The flirty jokes, the easy conversations, the small smiles, his furtive glances, and his unusually sweet gestures lately... She was in deep trouble. Was he kissing her neck?  Shit. He was no longer thinking straight.  About this. About her. About the consequences. He drew her closer when she tried to pull away. As if he didn't want her out of his sight. While his beard scraped her skin, his thighs touched hers. Her throat ached as he stared into her eyes. "Dammit," he sighed, his thumb tracing the curve of her neck, his touch both gentle and eager.  "Why are you so f-cking beautiful?"  "Joss, I need to g—" "Why now?" he murmured, stroking her cheek. He wasn't acting drunk or playing with her.  Not like this. He wouldn't. Not with her real feelings barely held together by some unspoken truths. Otherwise he wouldn't dare let it get this far.  But why wouldn't he let go? "Just stay. Please. Stay here with me." _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*Smut After her mate's brutal rejection, healing prodigy Sandra surrenders to a dangerously seductive stranger in a dark alley, only to discover he's her uncle Marcus. Trapped by blackmail in his isolated house, forbidden desire ignites between lessons. But Marcus harbors a deadly secret about her father's death. ----------------- “Fuck, Sandra,” he growled, thumb brushing over my nipple through the fabric until it stiffened, aching. “Vanessa’s right upstairs. If she hears us—” “I don’t care,” I panted, rocking up against him, chasing that thick pressure. “Make me forget today. Just tonight. Please.” I’m going straight to hell,” he muttered, then closed the gap. His mouth took mine slow this time, deliberate, like he was memorizing the taste of me. I sighed into it, hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders. He tasted like black coffee and smoke and sin, and I wanted more. He tugged me closer, one hand fisting in my hair, the other splayed low on my back, pressing me against him. Heat flared low in my belly, spreading fast. I shifted, trying to ease the ache between my thighs, and he groaned against my lips, grip tightening. His tongue traced the seam of my mouth; I opened for him instantly, meeting him stroke for stroke until we were both breathing hard. He tilted my head back, lips moving down my throat, teeth grazing the frantic beat of my pulse. I gasped, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. “We should stop,” he rasped against my skin, but his hand was already pushing under my thin tank top, calloused palm gliding up my ribs. “We should,” I agreed breathlessly, then dragged his mouth back to mine, kissing him deeper, hungrier.