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Warning: This chapter will contain an explicit mature scene. ~*~ We engaged in a passionate kiss as the heat started to arose in this scenario. The sound of our pants and my muffled moan resounded inside the bedroom as we both got lost in the moment. He held my waist, pulling me close to him and I raked his hair, deepening our kiss in anticipation. Our chests collided, and our bodies were ignited. When his tongue grazed my bottom lip as if asking for permission to enter, I parted my mouth. Our tongues danced in sync, with his hands moving further down my hips. His tongue explored my mouth, as the heat began to devour me. Every second and every touch was enough to make me feel on edge. I badl

Carrying the faint aroma of wine, her lips approached his. And they exchanged a passionate, lingering kiss. After a while, her watery eyes fluttered open. She smiled and backed away, but before she could get far, a large hand seized her waist. His palm was scorching hot, and the thin fabric of her nightdress didn't offer her skin much protection. She felt like he was about to set her on fire. "Madam, I haven't had enough." He brushed the tip of his nose against hers and chuckled, "Whatever I owe you from the back door, Madam, it's about time to repay it."

” They were only halfway through the banquet, but Arabella was already so tired that she had to excuse herself to the bathroom. When she came out, she passed by a lounge and was suddenly dragged in. She was about to scream in panic when her lips felt hot. Someone had sealed her lips in the darkness. She struggled to push him away, but the man held her firm. There was the faint taste of tobacco, which was familiar to her. Arabella stopped struggling, and the two continued to kiss until they could taste the champagne in their mouths. Neither could tell which flavor belonged to whom anymore. The kiss left Arabella panting slightly as she called out his name in the darkness. “Daniel.”

His mouth tasted of rain and smoke, dark and intoxicating, and every second felt like a slow burn unraveling inside me. His hands moved with fierce precision, sliding beneath my shirt, heat searing through every touch. He cupped my breasts, thumbs brushing over the taut peaks, sending jolts of electricity straight to my core. I gasped, arching toward him, desperate for more. He groaned into the kiss, his body pressing hard against mine, the heat radiating off him making the air thick and heavy.

she said quietly. “I will learn what I must,” I answered. Then, because the world still turned while men argued over thrones, I leaned down and kissed Damien, a fierce, precise thing that wasn’t about wanting so much as an oath. It tasted like rain and iron and the small mercy of human warmth. He kissed me back, clumsy and devastating, like a man who’d never been allowed to do something purely for himself. It was not erotic in a way a reader might expect on a bed; it was intimate and alive, a contract in muscle and breath.

Johnny started slowly, savoring every second of her vulnerability. He began at her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive column of her throat. His lips were warm, deliberate, tracing the line where her pulse fluttered wildly beneath the skin. He lingered over her racing heartbeat, sucking gently until a faint red mark bloomed. Then he moved to her collarbone, following the delicate ridge with the flat of his tongue, nipping lightly at the hollows Charlotte’s breathing hitched. She twisted her head to the side, trying to give him more access even as she fought the urge to beg for more. He didn’t rush. He never did when he wanted to draw things out

His secrets cut, but his touch heals, I thought, my fingers clawing into his shoulders, nails biting skin. My robe slipped to the floor, pooling like liquid moonlight, leaving my curves bare under his ravenous gaze. His calloused hands roamed, tracing every inch, igniting shivers that raced through my core. “Kayla,” he rasped, his voice thick with need, lifting me onto the bed, the linen sheets cool against my fevered skin. His kisses trailed down my neck, teeth grazing my collarbone, sparking electric jolts that made me gasp. I arched into him, my nails raking his back, his muscles flexing under my touch as he worshipped my body—every curve, every scar, every shudder. “You’re my home,” he w

Damien roared and followed, pumping rope after rope of cum so deep she felt it in her womb. He collapsed over her, still buried inside, and kissed the tears from her cheeks. His hand slid down to cup her cum-filled pussy possessively as they drifted off. “Mine,” he whispered into her hair. Isabella closed her eyes, chest tight with something far more dangerous than hate.

I pushed the thought away, distracted by the warmth of his body as he moved into the living room. I retreated to the kitchen, the silence from the living room was a canvas waiting to be painted. I made his coffee, the steam curling up like a question mark. I slowly brought it to him, my hands trembling slightly. He reached out to take the cup, but his fingers brushed against mine, lingering just a second and too long. The touch was electric, a spark that connected us in a way words couldn't. A smile touched his lips, and the warmth of his gaze sent a flush rushing to my cheeks.

“If love blooms by the end of the contract and once he knots you, you’re stuck there, impaled on him while he fills you over and over. There's no pulling away, no safe word. Just you and a royal lycan beast who needs to breed.” The image flooded my mind. I imagined Victor’s gentle hazel eyes turning feral. His strong body pinning me down. That knot swelling inside me until I felt like I would break. My scar pulsed faintly under my habit, as if remembering every time I had been marked by something supernatural.