Killing Me Softly Chords

“God—” “Not God,” he muttered against my neck, biting the skin there. “Me. Say my name.” “Dorian!” I cried, back arching. “That’s it.” He stroked faster, his thumb teasing over the tip, slicking me up. “Good boy. Take it.” Ezra Monroe was raised to be pure. The perfect choir boy. Twenty-two and untouched—soft voice and eyes that have never looked too long at sin. But one man ruins everything. Father Dorian Vale. The moment his eyes meet Ezra’s, something snaps. And a good boy learns how to kneel for the wrong man. He was supposed to guide him to heaven. Instead, he’s teaching him how to sin. He’s not here to save Ezra. He’s here to ruin him. Slowly. Until every prayer sounds like his name.

Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. The story contains explicit adult content of a sexual nature and should not be read by anyone under the age of 18. "Say you're a slut." He said, watching her finger herself, absentmindedly stroking his dick. "I," she gasped, closing her eyes, but being thrilled at saying the words, "I am a slut.. oh, please fuck me." He turned her around, forcing her up onto her hands and knees. She felt him run his hands down her back, up her spread ass, and finally pull on her hips as he positioned himself behind her. She moaned and turned herself up for him, pushing her open cunt back onto him. He leaned forward and grabbed her braids, pulling her head back as he rammed his dick inside her hard. She cried out and tightened around his dick, "Oh god, yes, fuck me. Fuck me hard and dirty." She moaned out. "I'm a fucking slut. Hurt my pussy."

"Good boys don't wear briefs," the man murmured in a low, seductive tone, causing Ivan's blood to heat up. An involuntary soft moan escaped Ivan's lips as he fought to catch his breath. Upon returning home from the office, he had purposely discarded his briefs, knowing the effect it had on his mysterious lover. The man always preferred him naked, and Ivan complied willingly. Whispering softly, Ivan repeated the words of his dream invader: "Good boys do not wear briefs." His voice was barely audible. The man pulled Ivan's buttocks firmly against his hips, causing a surge of sensations to rush through Ivan's body. "Good boys must be spanked," the man declared, inhaling Ivan's sweet scent, before planting his lips on the exposed soft skin. Ivan trembled and closed his eyes as the man playfully bit and kissed his neck, his hands teasingly exploring his torso, eventually reaching his sensitive, hardened nipples. After weeks of longing and erotic torture, there was one thing Ivan yearned for: Why couldn't his dream progress to the moment when the man actually penetrated him? The point where he claimed Ivan as his own. For at least, Ivan believed that he would truly comprehend what it felt like to be intertwined with him even in his dreams. To have himself be intimately connected with him. However, Ivan was aware that enduring the torture from this man, in his dreams, was the price he must pay for what he did ten years ago. Everything he feared, everything he regretted was coming back to slap him in the face tonight. By 6 p.m. he would be coming face to face with his dream invader at the college ten years reunion party, Shawn Maddox, in flesh.

He worshiped her like a goddess. She let another man make her moan. Duncan Moretti had everything—power, wealth, control. Women wanted him, men feared him. But when Aphrodite walked into his world, she didn’t want his money… she wanted his soul. And he gave it to her. Every kiss, every whispered promise, every desperate moan—he thought they meant something. He planned the perfect proposal, ready to give her forever. Until she didn’t show up. Until she arrived hours late—smiling like she hadn’t just crushed him. Until a man walked in uninvited, laughing, calling her home. And when Duncan followed her, broken and burning, he saw it all with his own eyes—Aphrodite naked under another man, moaning his name like she once moaned his. Now Duncan isn’t the man who fell to his knees. He’s the man who’s rising—with revenge in his blood and nothing left to lose. She wanted to be worshiped? He’ll make sure she remembers exactly how it feels.

Jovian yang selalu mengejar mimpi yang tak pasti.Jovian hanya ingin ayahnya kembali dan ibunya bahagia, itu saja. Namun apakah kenyataannya seperti yang diharapkan?

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