Kiss Bond Novels & Stories

Good. “Names,” Viktor ordered. The first to step forward was a tall brunette with a scar across her cheek like she’d survived a bomb. She wore black cargo pants and combat boots like she meant business. “Kira,” she said in a flat voice. “Explosives. Don’t get in my fucking way.” I raised an eyebrow. “Try not to blow yourself up, and we’ll get along just fine.” She didn’t react. Ice cold. Next was a blonde with ceand ekbones sharp enough to cut glass and dark lipstick that screamed trouble. She looked like she enjoyed pain, mostly giving it.

“But now… we explore what the bond means… for us.” Elara’s fingers slid along his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat, the warmth of his body, the energy pulsing between them. “Then let it guide us,” she whispered, lips meeting his again in a kiss that was both tender and insistent, fiery and claiming. The bond responded instantly, silver sparks coiling around them, amplifying every touch, every shiver, every pulse of desire. Hands roamed, tender yet insistent, as they explored one another, learning every curve, every strength, every nuance amplified by the connection they shared.

His thumb trembled against her cheek. Then his mouth crashed against hers. The kiss was not tender. It was fierce, consuming, desperate. His hands pulled her close, as if holding her body tighter could bind her loyalty, as if her breath could drown out the doubt burning through his veins. For a moment, she let herself feel it — the fire, the ache, the longing that had always existed between them. But the more he clung, the more she realized what it was: not love, not trust. Chains.

This meant that there was no need for a formal and early proclamation of one’s feelings and the line between being friends and being lovers often blurred. Kokuhaku was unique in that it was a very clear declaration of feelings that the object of affection had a right to answer before any deeper relationship could take place. It was like a “switch” that Slayers had to turn on and whose execution of course gave them enormous pressure. Although usually made by boys, girls could also undertake the proposal and preferred to do so on the Star Festival, which was an annual holiday associated with romantic love. On the day, male and female Slayers exchanged hand-drawn greeting cards, Siam tulips (Ar

"Centuries ago before the creation of man. The moon and the earth were one living in perfect harmony. Then man was created by Yahweh placed incharge over every living, breathing being on earth. He dominated and ruled. The moon was a female deity called Luna worshipped by humans. Once every lunar eclipse a praise sacrifice is performed in her honour, she comes down to earth along with her two beautiful daughters. The eldest daughter Crescent fell in love with Chukwuma an Ozo title holder Nze na orzoh before the colonial administration. Chukwuma was a wealthy and respected during his time. Although her mother Luna was distrust over the matter, she allowed her daughter to marry the human. They

His eyes never left her. There was something magnetic between them — a silent exchange, a rhythm only they understood. The music faded into a hush. She reached him, her hand sliding into his with practiced ease, and then — She kissed him. Not a polite peck. Not a staged gesture. A kiss. Slow. Lingering. Her fingers curled around his jaw, her body leaning into his grinding him, and his hands didn’t push her away. They held her. I swear I heard something shatter.

That made it easier. “Mate,” I said, my voice rough. The bond between us hummed with energy, pulling us together. I reached out, my hand shaking as I touched her cheek. Her skin was warm, soft under my fingers. She leaned into my hand, closing her eyes like she wanted to hold onto the moment. My thumb brushed over a faint scar on her face. It wasn’t just a bond. It was a connection built on everything she’d been through. I leaned closer until our faces were inches apart. Her breath mingled with mine, and when our lips touched, it felt like the world stopped. The kiss started gentle but quickly deepened. It was raw and electric, overwhelming in the best way.

A wave of disgust washed over me, and I retched. In the many years I had been with Shawn, he had never kissed me during our most intimate moments. He said he had germophobia, and I bought into it. The truth was that his lips were reserved for the love of his life. Picking up on the noise, the pair in the bedroom looked over. They were the ones having a rendezvous. Yet, I took cover without a second thought. I shuddered from the cold and prayed that Casey would leave soon. I waited an hour, but she didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

I want to kiss him again, and because we are now married, I can. I kiss him, tasting the effervescent champagne still on his lips. We share our champagne kisses, knowing we will have many more. I kiss him, feeling my heart soar in my chest, remembering our first champagne kiss. It took twenty years, but Dean and I are finally together. Everything is perfect.

His hand tightened slightly at my neck as he closed the remaining distance. This time there was no knock. His mouth met mine with controlled force, the contact sharp and immediate after days of near-breaks. The bond flared hard in response, strong enough that I felt it through my entire body. Kael’s other hand settled at my waist, pulling me closer as the careful structure he had maintained finally gave way. The kiss was not gentle. It carried the weight of three years, the contract, and every moment he had stepped back before. I answered it without hesitation, the pull between us no longer asking for permission.