Eminence In Shadow Nude Novels & Stories

They strained slightly as the stranger began gliding her hand up and down his shaft. “Good girl,” the Shadow moaned. “That’s my good fucking girl… Now keep going like that. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you to go faster.” Eyes still sealed shut, Charlotte followed orders. She held tightly to his penis, her legs trembling as she tried to imagine what it would be like inside of her. The rhythmic motion became soothing. Up and down, the Shadow's deep moans mixed with the sound of cicadas and the soft rustling of the trees as a gentle breeze raced by. It was hypnotic… And then the Shadow’s hand appeared gentle on Lotte’s cheek, his thumb pressing in between the girl’s lips and resting aga

Matthias shouted to his parents, "Send Katana to my chambers now. Emma is in danger!" Matthias faded and entered their room to find Emma fading fast as a shadow sat upon her with a pillow held upon her head, suffocating her. He knew her heartrate was falling fast, and she was not long for this world. Charging at the shadow, he passed right through and fell upon the floor next to Emma. He was shocked at the power of the shadow and yet he couldn't attack it via normal means, he managed to pull the pillow away from her face and heard her breathing hitch, as she managed to take in the air to sustain her lungs.

To be honest, any other girl will be intimidated with just looking at him. Sky of SHADOW is known to have a lot of fans. A lot of girls, even famous celebrities admits that he is their ideal man. Damn, I saw one of his performance once and I must say, he really has a strong stage presence, not to mention that his face looks like it was carved by God into perfection. His lips were all so red and alluring too. I can’t help but gulp as I stop myself from staring at him. For a second, I tilted my head a little to keep myself calm.

a low dangerous voice commented from their right side. The slayers turned fast as one of the trees swung out to be revealed as the Gray Shadow's legs. He was shirtless revealing a hard, cut physique like gray marble. A fresh wound in his right pectoral oozed blood down his front in a hot crimson river. His fingers flexed, then slowly closed at his sides into fists. The thick tendons running down his powerful arms popped up, flexing with the promise of death in their motion.

— Why would anyone deny themselves that kind of feeling? I try to look away, but the woman’s moan sticks to my skin. My breathing is fast, ragged. And he knows it. He lifts a hand, gesturing discreetly, and the room sinks into shadow, the candles dimming to faint red dots. I can only see silhouettes now — bodies moving, laughter, gasps, wine spilling onto stone floors… Azrion’s hand touches my knee, just above where the boot ends, and gently urges my legs apart.

My security detail trailed at a discreet distance. As I walked, I passed the small, exclusive art gallery where I had once dreamed of having my own exhibition, a lifetime ago when I was just Amelia Evans, a scholarship student with paint under her fingernails and stars in her eyes. I stopped dead. There, in the window, displayed prominently with a tasteful spotlight, was a painting. It was a stormy seascape, all turbulent greys and slashes of angry blue, but in the center, a single, stubborn shaft of gold light broke through the clouds, illuminating a lone, resilient flower growing from a crack in a cliff face.

I plead, and she looks into my eyes, searching for any hesitation, but when she doesn’t, she drops my hands and moves away. “Fine, I’ll tell you.” My excitement is swiftly wiped away by her next words. “The shadow god is an abomination. He was never supposed to be born. He’s the product of an unholy ritual, an anomaly.”

The grip is bound in deep crimson leather plaited around a core of adamantine wire, ensuring that neither sweat nor blood can slip my hold. "Emberlance..." I whispered. The spear gently hummed in my hands at my recognition, like it was happy to hear its own name. "My gift to you, child", the shadow said. I looked up, smiling softly "Are you sure? This is your spear, grandfather..." I said. My admission of the figure cleared up the shadow, revealing a man standing well over seven feet tall. Broad shoulders and iron‐forged musculature speak of millennia spent mastering warfare. High cheekbones and a squared jaw give his face a sculpted, almost statuesque quality. A faint, jagged scar runs from