Jasmine Flamesworth Novels & Stories

I could hear the faint crackling of a fire coming from the living room, where I had arranged for a cozy setup for our arrival. As we stepped into the living room, Amira’s eyes widened at the sight. There were soft blankets on the couch, and the fireplace bathed the room in a warm glow. The smell of freshly bloomed roses from the nearby vase filled the air. I watched her as she took it all in, her eyes lingering on the small details. I had wanted everything to be perfect for her. “You really planned all this?” she asked, a small, teasing smile playing on her lips. I shrugged, a smirk creeping up on my face. “Only the best for my wife.”

“Then take what you want, Professor. I’m all yours.” She straddled him quickly, hiking up her tight skirt. The cool air of the lecture hall kissed her bare thighs, raising goosebumps. She pulled her soaked panties aside, feeling the slick heat of her own arousal. His thick cock felt scorching hot and velvety as it rubbed against her dripping, sensitive folds. “You’re deleting that video right after this,” she demanded, lowering herself onto him slowly. Every thick inch stretched her open with a delicious, burning pressure that made her gasp sharply. The fullness felt overwhelming.

Yet, the desire for justice burned within her, fueling her determination to see her plans through. In the quiet of the night, Amia pored over her schemes, refining them, adding new details, and ensuring their effectiveness. With each passing day, her resolve strengthened, and her heart hardened against the memories of friendship and trust that had once bound her to Damien and Lily. Little did she know that her path would soon intersect with unexpected allies, and the seeds of vengeance she had planted would bear fruit in ways she could never have imagined.

The most high-pitched scream of pure pain fills the hut, and she thrashes against me, but I hold her down anyway. "Poor Jasmine," Flora says, and I agree. Jasmine seemed to pass out suddenly. She kept waking up and passing out as mom and dad rearranged her bones. Finally, mom was done and had her bandaged and hooked on an Iv with morphine as well as something to keep her asleep for a while. My heart was breaking for her and I tried not to concentrate on the burning hate I had coursing through me for every single person of leadership in this fucking pack. I'm going to make them ALL pay. They could count on it.

She stood about 6'2", her hair blown out in a shapely natural with an Afro pick resting off to the side. Instead of the standard yellow WH smock, she was dressed in skin draped denim bejeweled with sequins and a pair of calf high boots with pimp heels. "Foxy Brown?" "Yep, you're the first," she replied as she poured that first cup of coffee smiling at me. "I thought that no one was gonna get it; you made my day." I smiled back at her, my mind thinking of her warm and wet place. I shook off those thoughts and concentrated on the steaming liquid in front of me. "My name is Jasmine and I'll come back when you're ready to order." As she walked away, my heart dropped through my stomach and ended

The ash began to swirl, rising in spirals, glowing with inner light. A figure formed from the flames and ash. A woman, tall and elegant, her entire body made of living fire. Her hair was flames, her eyes were embers, her skin rippled with heat. She wore no clothes, but the fire covered her like a dress, constantly moving, never quite revealing anything solid beneath. She was beautiful and terrifying. "Who are you?" I demanded, though my voice sounded small in the face of such power. "I am Ignatia," the flame woman said, her voice crackling like a campfire. "Guardian of the ashes. Keeper of the sacred grounds."

she hugged me and went off to help someone else. Once she’s far enough away I hold the clam to my ear hearing the words in my mind. “Twin flames is an intense connection; best described as one soul that has split into two bodies. The two souls often mirror each other, bringing the best and the worst of each other.” Is it possible Rod and I shared the same soul? That would explain why the potion didn’t work. You can’t separate from your own soul. I place the clam back on the shelf , I’ve had enough reading for one morning.

The person stuttered, "M-Mr. Zalmer… are you saying D-Dr. Zal—Winifred—is your daughter?" Serena ignored the crowd and moved the cursor to play the surveillance footage. In it, I wore a white laboratory coat and wore a surgical mask as I meticulously worked on an experiment. Everything seemed normal. Just then, the glass beaker before me caught on fire without warning. Flames soon shot to the sky as a thick plume of smoke came from the beaker. Upon seeing that, Raiden pointed at the screen and exclaimed, "There! Winifred, you must've done something wrong. Don't worry, though. I can endure your punishment on your behalf!"

When they finally crawled ashore, Owen looked at me pitifully and asked if I remembered anything. When I shook my head, disappointment filled his eyes. Still, he said, "It's okay. I'll keep trying to help you remember." He brought me roses every day, saying that they were my favorite flowers. But I didn't care. The sight of that bright red color only made me feel disgusted. He also brought me an embroidered wedding dress, saying that it was a gift from my mentor. Apparently, I had worn it for him once before, and he had been completely captivated.

I wrapped my fingers around the base and gave it a slow stroke. “Look at me,” I reminded him gently. His eyes fluttered open again, dark with lust and nerves. I held his gaze as I dragged my tongue from the base of his cock all the way to the tip, swirling around the head to collect the bead of precum. He tasted clean and slightly salty… addictive. James’s moan was louder this time, his thighs trembling. “Oh god…”