Kiss Of The Muse Novels & Stories

she breathed, and she rose onto her toes to press her mouth to his. The kiss was not gentle. It was a collision, a culmination of years of suppressed longing and artistic tension. His arms wrapped around her, crushing her to him, and his mouth was demanding, hungry. He tasted of darkness and desire, a flavor so intoxicating she felt drunk on it. His tongue swept into her mouth, and she met it with her own, a fierce, claiming dance that left them both breathless.

Every time I say Keo's name it's like I'm summoning an ancient curse that could plague this world. "Maybe I can help. We have a mate bond, there is no stronger connection to be had," he offers, helping me down from the counter. "I'll give it a try." I'm not sure how successful I will be considering the wound on my head, but Kastriv is right, I should probably try. So gripping Kastriv's hand, I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, trying to rid my mind of any thoughts that don't pertain to the bond between him and I.

"Good, girl." Xavier immediately captures my lips in an explosive kiss, a collision of pent-up emotion and passion. This is not just a kiss; it's a declaration of war against my sanity. His tongue sweeps across my lips with possessive demand, forcing me to open up and accept his complete dominance. I let out a soft moan, my hands weaving into his hair, pulling him closer until no air remains between us. The kiss is hot and wild, tasting like a burning, potent fragrance. Each touch of his lips seems to absorb all the wounds of betrayal I felt, replacing them with electric sparks that burn through my nerves. His steel-hard embrace is the only thing that feels real and dizzying.

Sliding into the backseat of an Uber, I clutch my bag to my chest like a shield. I have him— whatever's in here is something he doesn't want anybody to see. But when I unlock my phone, the screen lights up with a push notification that drains every drop of blood from my face. New Music Video: "Muse" - Watch Now. My mouth goes dry. The bastard couldn't have. It's been what? Twenty— Thirty minutes? With a trembling thumb, I tap the link. The video opens on a gritty, unfamiliar set. I let out a hollow laugh.

he murmurs from his knees. I grin and reach for his soaked sweater. “Come here,” I whisper, pulling him closer to me, craving the taste of his lips against mine. The moment our mouths meet, it's like striking a match—everything ignites. His kiss is fierce, electric, and all-consuming. My hands move eagerly, tugging his sweater over his head, followed by his t-shirt, both landing forgotten as the warm spray of the shower rains over us.

When she finished, they were sloppily kissing, strings of spit and cum connecting their dirty mouths. Krista broke the kiss and then lay down on the ground on her side and she spread her legs open. Callista got a beautiful view of Krista, her breasts hanging tightly from her body, her stomach flat, and her pussy dripping and inviting. She looked like a classical painting. But apparently, Krista did not want to merely be viewed. She hooked her finer at Callista, beckoning her forward.

But her body betrayed her again—skin tingling where his breath touched, blood rushing hot and confused. She forced words out, trembling but defiant. “You can threaten me all you want, Dante. But you’ll never break me.” He paused, searching her face with unnerving patience. Then, unexpectedly, his mouth curved into a predator’s smile. “That’s what I like about you.” Before she could move, his hand slid beneath her chin, tilting her face up. His mouth descended, claiming hers in a kiss nothing like the one at dinner. This one was raw, punishing, ruthless. His lips pressed hard, his tongue forcing past her resistance until she gasped. Her fists shoved against his chest, but he was immovable, un

Her body tilted toward him even as her mind screamed to leave. “You can walk out,” he whispered. “But you won’t.” She shivered. He turned her around, pressing her back against the cool wall of sketches. His eyes burned into hers. “Do you know what happens to a muse?” She shook her head. “They become part of the art.” He kissed her before she could breathe. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t gentle. His mouth consumed hers like he’d been starving. His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her against him, letting her feel how hard he was already. Her fingers dug into his shirt.

A flowing red dress framed my figure, and every careful stroke showed the artist's affection toward me. The artist was Anthony, and the title read, "My Only Muse". A hand-painted portrait carried a weight and romance that no confession could match. The entire social circle was in an uproar, shocked that Anthony, who had always been notoriously wild and arrogant, could fall so deeply for a woman. No one expected that after three years of living in the shadows, I would return, looking vibrant and more breathtaking than ever. Comment after comment calling us a perfect match flooded in, each one landing like a blow, leaving Caleb unable to stay composed.

And right now, they are nothing less than what I have imagined in my head—so soft, inviting, and intoxicating. ‘Please, goddess, don’t let her pull away,’ I whisper in one small, insignificant prayer to the Moon Goddess. But insignificant as it seems, she approved it. The kiss is anything but gentle or soft. It is all-consuming. It’s as if we have both played this moment over and over in our heads, and now that it’s finally happening, neither of us can pull away. She nibbles on my lips, and I groan loudly. Oh, goddess. She traces her hand around my chest while I move her back against the wall. Our tongues swirl in that magical dance, it lights up every dark corner of our lives.