Drunk Kisses Novels & Stories

not again. "Lou," he slurred, his lips brushing against mine. I tried to push him away, but Alex's grip tightened. I knew what was coming. "You think Donatello kisses better, huh? I'm about to prove you...wrong." Before I could react, his mouth claimed mine in a sloppy, drunken kiss. Shit! As I tried to break free, Alexander deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with mine. His hands roamed my body, sending waves of heat through me. Oh goodness....no....

He leaned into her clumsy kiss, the taste of tequila lingering on her lips. Their kiss deepened, causing a tangle of limbs and breathless moans. Their clothes were shed in a hurried rage, and their movements fueled by a potent mix of alcohol and unspoken desires. Succumbing to the allure of her beauty, he surrendered to his impulse. Their bodies entwined in a moment of intense pleasure.

He palmed my face, "I'm going to kiss you... Drake said and before I could shove him away, he had already claimed my lips in his. It wasn’t like the invasion Jake had staged in the dressing room. Jake’s kiss had been a war, a claiming of territory that left me breathless and shattered. Drake’s was different, it was a desperate plea, a frantic attempt to anchor me to a reality that didn't exist. He tasted of the salt air, his lips pressing against mine with a hunger that felt more like grief than passion.

he muttered, his hands trembling on the buttons, his eyes pleading. I knelt, my fingers brushing his, unbuttoning his shirt, my breath catching as his skin grazed mine. His head tilted, and before I could pull back, his lips crashed into mine, hot, urgent, tasting of whiskey and need. My mind blanked, my body responding, kissing him back, deep, hungry, my hands gripping his shoulders as years of buried longing poured out. The kiss stretched, electric, his tongue tracing mine, my heart racing until reality slammed into me—this was wrong, he was drunk, drugged, not himself.

I kissed her lightly on her lips and ordered a couple of drinks for us. We flirted with each other all throughout the evening. We both enjoyed sharing some kisses not minding the people watching us. I had to have her tonight or I'll lose my mind. So I decided to bring her to my place. We went to the next building and I had a friend take us to my place with his chopper. All throughout the flight we continued to kiss while I try to remain in control. I could feel myself wanting to taste her. My fangs keep protruding every time my mouth kisses the pulsing veins on her neck. But I stay focused on her enjoying our kisses and panting every time I stop kissing her.

I replied as I throw death glares over him. "You’re really reckless, Aizhyrra. Who the hell in this world will fucking sign the fucking contract without fucking reading it?" he asked with his dangerous voice. “Excuse me? I am not reckless! You’re just manipulative! I can’t believe that you tricked me into this just because I kissed you. I regret doing it!” I rolled my eyes on him. Trizhor smirked devilishly again. “Oh baby, believe me, I love to kiss you all over again.”

Their eyes met, and she sat up, leaning over him. "Thank you for tonight," she whispered, gazing at his lips. She wanted to kiss him. Her tousled hair brushed against his face as she pushed her mouth tenderly against his. Their lips parted as he kissed her back, the passion igniting between them. He tasted like liquor. There was a longing inside of her, begging to be filled. He took in a breath, "We can't do this," he spoke sternly, gently pushing her away, "You're drunk."

For a moment, the tension between them softened, replaced by a quiet understanding that neither of them dared to put into words. Ray shifted, his body pressing against hers as he kissed her deeply, the intensity of it sending a shiver down her spine. Samira responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, losing herself in the feel of his lips on hers. The kiss quickly escalated, their hands exploring familiar paths with renewed urgency.

The truth was, the song was pushing us to go beyond just brushing against each other's clothes and dancing. When Minerva opened her eyes a few seconds later, I kissed her. Her lips were as soft as ever. This time, she didn't hesitate at all to respond to the kiss. As I touched her lips and felt her breath, I could tell how much she had been drinking. Her kisses tasted like vodka, rum, and whiskey, I don't know, there were so many liquors mixed together. No wonder these girls were so out of it. I don't think even the strongest person could handle such a combination.

Marigold replied with a sarcastic laughing emoji, followed by a stack of documents—Chester's years of bank transfers, the insurance policies he purchased, and a record of Florence transferring 300,000 dollars to the truck driver's wife under the guise of personal compensation. Marigold was the friend who had worked at a bank. These underhanded dealings didn't escape her scrutiny. The truth quickly hit me like a bucket of ice water. Marigold said to me, "Ivy, I've been waiting for you. If a man breaks your heart, come back to me. Let's spend our lives together." We had known each other for over two decades, and she often joked like that. Back then, I would laugh along and tease her, saying, "