Kiss Of Smoke Book Novels & Stories

Toward the chance to finally live my truth. My pack was full of homophobes—men and women who despised what they couldn’t understand. People who would rather tear you down than accept your truth. I couldn't live like that. Not anymore. And then… Stanley happened. That kiss. That one kiss at the bar. It shattered every wall I had built around myself. I felt it. The pull. The connection. The undeniable spark that only a mate bond could bring. I knew he felt it too—it was written all over his face, in the way his eyes widened, the way his breath caught in his throat. He tried to hide it, but I saw it.

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He continued, "We were very much in love." "You mean you and Camilla were in love." I smiled mockingly. "To this day, I can remember the taste of those infertility tonics you gave me." Maurice's jaw dropped, and he gaped at me. I continued, "Oh, and what was it that you said to me before I died? You asked me why I'd yet to go to hell. You said my existence stopped you and Camilla from being together. "You also said that I was cursed and that I shouldn't have dirtied the bedchambers you shared with Camilla. And after my death, you had me—the dignified daughter of the Chapman family—wrapped in a straw mat and thrown into a mass grave."

My finger digs into the railings once more and I fight my trembling lips to inhale the smoke. The gentle heat of the cigarette,or his fingers leaves my longing lips and without question or hesitation. His lips crashed against mine,pulling me into an instant dying,greedy,breathless kiss. And what's worse is,I don't object,my fingers clutches the leather of his collar,responding with a fierce need I didn't even know I had in me. The smoke in my mouth levitated between us,fogging my vision and my brain. The taste of him filling me like a drug I've been trying to quit,swelling up my clit and hardening my nipples.

I want to drown in it. He leans in and exhale his cigarette into my mouth. The smoke enters my lung in a slow, cascading flame that steals oxygen from me, getting me fucking hard. His face so close and my vision tunnels..to him kissing me. He looks back up at me, I watch his iris move from my left eyes to right then he release my jaw with force. Causing me to stumble down "His locker" He orders standing up, smoothing his clothes.

, he added. I was lost in his words. So much that I couldn't even realize when I pulled him close to me, grabbing his collar and captured his lips. I sucked his upper and lower lips in a sync, trailing my hand up to his cheeks. His sharp beard pinned against my skin, delivering goosebumps all over my body. I nibbled his lips like a hungry creature. I missed him, his words, his lips, his smile, and everything he had. He grabbed my waist, lifting me up in the air, my legs leaving the ground. He kissed me back, taking a fistful of my hairs. Sliding my tongue into his warm mouth, I tasted every inch of it. I could feel the taste of smoke. Though he never smoked in front of me, I knew he was a sm

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.

The smoke left his mouth with his next breath, clouds of gray drifting above his head. I knew he smoked because I could taste it on his tongue when I kissed him, but it was different from cigarette smoke. It had flavors of licorice and chocolate and a hint of coffee. When he rose from the armchair, I was reminded of how tall he was, that my highest heels were still no match for this behemoth. He stepped toward me and circled his arm around the small of my back, pulling me into him for a soft kiss on the mouth.

The whiskey burned down her throat, making her pulse thud louder than the music. In her peripheral vision, she saw him take a long drag from his cigar, the ember glowing faintly in the dark. Then his hand tilted her chin up. She froze—but didn’t resist. His lips touched hers, cool at first, then warmer as the smoky breath he exhaled slipped between them. Whiskey and tobacco tangled together, sweet and bitter all at once. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out the bubbling water. His fingers held her jaw lightly, shielding their kiss from the others’ view. He drew her bottom lip between his, then deepened it just enough for his tongue to find hers—briefly, deliberately.

Marigold replied with a sarcastic laughing emoji, followed by a stack of documents—Chester's years of bank transfers, the insurance policies he purchased, and a record of Florence transferring 300,000 dollars to the truck driver's wife under the guise of personal compensation. Marigold was the friend who had worked at a bank. These underhanded dealings didn't escape her scrutiny. The truth quickly hit me like a bucket of ice water. Marigold said to me, "Ivy, I've been waiting for you. If a man breaks your heart, come back to me. Let's spend our lives together." We had known each other for over two decades, and she often joked like that. Back then, I would laugh along and tease her, saying, "