Kiss Her Perfume Novelas e Histórias

Walks over to where I'm leaning against the kitchen island and kisses me. Her lips are warm. The sensation registers the way data registers on a spreadsheet. Present, categorized, assigned no weight. Her perfume—rose and blackcurrant, French and expensive—sits on my senses like cellophane. Pretty. Airtight. I can't smell her through it. Can't smell anything that the broken compass in my skull would recognize as real. My body takes a half-step back, reaching for the wine glass already in my hand, making the retreat look functional.

When she pulled away, her lipstick—a deep, bloody red—was smeared around his mouth. “You’re a mess, baby,” she murmured, her thumb swiping at the corner of his lips. Then she leaned in, pressed her lips to the collar of his white t-shirt, leaving a perfect, blatant kiss mark. A brand. She picked up a small clutch from the counter, gave me one last, lingering look, and walked right past me towards the front door. The scent of her perfume—jasmine and something musky, sexual—hung in the air as she passed. The front door opened and shut with a soft, final click.

A shiver ran down Kai's spine, and he felt his chest rise, then sink into a hard work rhythm. "I must tell you that I choose my lover." She made a gesture for him to come to her side. “A talented person like me will never go to waste.” "Why me?" Kai asked, his voice tending to be irritated. He stepped closer, close enough to smell the perfume she was wearing. She smelled of soap and clean skin, a faint scent reminiscent of jasmine or rose. “That's how you confused me. His instincts found the most sensitive spots on my hand, in the middle of the palm and inside the knuckles. Some men have such instincts.”

There are two sides to every story, but everyone only listens to the heroines. Maybe that’s why I hated fairy tales growing up. My name is Ava Prescott. I’m the girl everyone loves to hate but secretly wants to be. I was from one of the richest families in Rivers City, captain of the cheer team, spoiled, popular, influential, worshipped, and dating the captain of our school hockey team, well, until the so-called heroine snatched my man and made me the butt of everyone’s joke. Well, it's not too late for me. I am Ava Prescott. I never lose. Maybe that’s why when Zane, captain of our sworn rival hockey team, dangled a juicy bait in front of me, I was quick to bite. How better to get back at my

Kiss her? Kissing wins. My hands move to rest on her shoulders and keep her where I need her. My head dips. She nervously licks her lips. My breath hitches when I finally taste her by running my tongue across her lips. She was taste-testing frosting too. So damn sweet. I pull her closer and she sinks into me. Goddess, her taste. Energy zings along my nerves until the energy finds home. Home is my cock and that's how damn good she tastes.

"Is that necessary right now. Don't you wanna collect your gift?" I could tell her I'm exhausted but risk making my girlfriend cry. Instead, I go closer to her. Her skeptical smile is replaced with a wide one. "You're wearing the perfume I bought for you." "Yeah. Smells good right? Even the wax I used is the one you got me." "You look so good. Thank you for this." Now, the moment of truth. I have to do something in less than 3 seconds. I move to kiss her when her phone rings.

Because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. She holds my gaze, a challenge in her eyes. — Then look. I stand up. Slowly. I go to sit beside her. So close I can smell her perfume, that mix of vanilla and her, unique, intoxicating. I take her face in my hands, gently, as one holds something precious, fragile. Her cheeks are soft, incredibly soft. I stroke her temples with my thumbs, follow the line of her eyebrows, the contour of her lips. — Kassian, she murmurs.

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.

she asked again, standing up and pushing herself into my arms. I inhaled the smell that made every single desire in me arise. She smelled like cherries. It was so refreshing that I knew, with the way she snuggled toward me, I was done for. I raised her head; her gaze sweeping from my neck down to my lips. “Kiss me…” she demanded sternly. And for the first time, I let myself obey. Her lips were everything I had always imagined her to have. Or maybe this lady right here just happened to have it all… a replica of the woman I had always loved.