Kiss Of Darkness Novels & Stories

As the kiss ended, the warmth of his touch still lingered, but I could feel the darkness closing in, pulling me under. Panic flickered at the edges of my mind, but it was no match for the overwhelming wave of fatigue that swept through me. My vision blurred, and the last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me was the concern etched on his face, a silent vow that he would catch me if I fell. And then, there was nothing but darkness, but even in that void, the memory of his kiss lingered—a spark of light in the shadow, a promise that when I resurfaced, he would be there, waiting.

Then his fingers slide under my jaw, lift my face towards his. His gaze is black. Unwavering. — No. We erased it. And in that whisper, in that quiver of evidence, I know. I know that this is not an affair, not a story, not a romance. It is a possession. A drug for two. A pact with no return. And I signed it. On my knees. With an open heart. With bared throat. I am his. Until the tear. Until oblivion. Until the end. ---

She looked up at me with wide, scared eyes, like she wanted me to make everything go away. But how could I? She was shaking in my arms. And honestly… so was I. The floor suddenly shook. The air went icy cold. Through a crack in the door, I saw him. Prince Lucien Devereux. He looked wrong—like he wasn’t meant to be here. His black hair hung over his pale face. His lips were dark with blood. And he was smiling. A slow, cruel smile. Like this was all some sick game to him. His brother, Elias, stood beside him. Quiet. Waiting. Like he was watching a show.

I feel his breathe against my lips, panting now, desperate. Intuitively, my hips push forward towards his and wordlessly, without breaking the kiss at all, he pushes his knee forward and up, sliding it between my thighs, pushing the skirt of my dress up with it until the top of his knee is against the juncture of my thighs. his knee is bare thanks to the shorts he’s wearing, and when the warmth of his skin pushes against my pants, my body jolts. “Oh god,” I moan out, breaking the kiss. “Oh god, Luca… Oh god.”

he breathed out, his words a confession in the darkness. My heart raced at his admission, and as our eyes locked, we leaned into a kiss that bridged the gap between past and present. It was a kiss of longing, of passion, and of healing. In that moment, the world around us ceased to exist, and there was only the two of us, lost in the embrace that defied time and tragedy.

Everything went well with his well-built body, not to mention that his wavy brown-black hair and his brown eyes added an attractive and irresistible touch. The dark-haired guy, who was more than amused with his father, stopped looking at him and now focused on the brunette. Katherina and he smiled simultaneously, and the dark-haired guy leaned closer to her, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips that left a taste called "desire for more." He kissed her cheek and then spoke: "You owe me something, Katherina," the dark-haired man whispered, taking a sip from the beer can in front of him. Katherina spoke, "Do I owe you something? Not at all, Mikaelson. I have no idea what you're talking about."

Not only am I the first ever vampire to exist, but also the first vampire that had the power of three powerful supernatural forces combined - a vampire, a witch, and a werewolf. It was the early 1700s when a witch, my mother, and a werewolf, my father, fell in love with each other. It was beautiful, and the perfect love - one that is one with nature and a beast that resides and takes care of nature and the other animals living in it. They were living peacefully with mortals and the children they were to bear. But at that time, a virus broke among mortals. Nurses and doctors reported that dead bodies in the morgue went missing. Nikleux, my mom and the most powerful witch ever, casted a conosc

I threw his pants and briefs on the floor while my eyes found his eyes which were darkened with desire. I scooted to his level and kissed his lips. I gasped when he responded hungrily. His hand caught my hand and guided it down south to touch his already manhood, waiting for my attention. I instantly grabbed it with my hand and I could feel his strong desire for me as we continued kissing each other passionately. I broke off our kiss and then gave him butterfly kisses to his chin, neck then down to his chest. I gingerly grazed my tongue against his nipples and he seemed to like it as he groaned loudly.

He crashed his lips back down onto hers with a devastating, unyielding force that utterly consumed her scream. This kiss was entirely different from the last. It was raw, demanding, and dripping with an ancient, starving desperation. He parted her lips with a brutal, possessive swipe of his tongue, tasting her deeply, claiming every hidden corner of her mouth as if he were trying to swallow her whole. Rosalie whimpered, her hands tightening into useless fists above her head as the ropes held her captive. She tried to fight the kiss, tried to pull her head back, but Dominic’s grip on her neck was like a vice of solid iron.

That ravage me. “Dima…” My name is a pure moan on her lips, inciting pure lust. I milk her sweetness, loving the taste of her lips. I’ve kissed various women before, but none can be compared to Dawn. As I kiss her with masterful precision, I taste the sweetness of the juice she drank earlier at the club. “Dima…” She groans again. I taste the coppery tang of blood but I don’t know from whose lips it’s coming from, either way we continue with the kiss. The dark side of me, the sadistic side loves the blood that seeped out and how we exchange it.