Kiss Of The Muse Novels & Stories

"And you will render your services for us, until your life is exhausted! You will not leave my house!!" "I am not a slave! I will go! I had enough!! Let me go!" Kara screamed with anger. She can't take it anymore, Klarisse is delusional. She must go but Klarisse pulled her hair even harder, she felt some strands broke off.

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 stated and suddenly kissed me. That was the first time my lips touched hers. I've kissed so many women in my lifetime but she was unforgettable. The kissed we shared was slow and sensual. We kissed so deep like our lives depend on it. Our clothes were being discarded as our kiss continued to deepen. Then she moaned and called out another man's name. I stopped kissing her and lay her in bed. She was fast asleep after a few minutes. I couldn't help but watch her sleeping. I watch her sleep the entire evening. When I saw the sun was already up I left her alone. I left a note - thanks for the wonderful night.

It didn’t even bother him if he was a demon and a guy. The demon tilted his mask a little, revealing half of his face. Afterward, the demon leaned down, planting a kiss on Xurden’s lips. It was just a simple kiss, but the effect on Xurden was big. His body became hotter and his skin tingled in euphoria while his heart beat became louder. And there’s one thing that woke all his senses. The scent coming from the demon was the same as Yric.

But his balls were delicious, like raw oysters. He pulled me down softly and took off my pants with his teeth, his fingers tracing my sensitive part. My head thudding against the glass, heat pulsing through my blood from the point where his tongue was driving me mad. My leg flexed against his back, urging him closer, my hands cupping his head to hold him still as I rocked into him. Feeling the rough satin strands of his hair against my sensitive inner thighs was its provocation, heightening my awareness of everything around me.

He smiled at me, unfazed by my hideous face. “Aren’t you sickened by me? I’m ugly, and I was trying to free the world of myself until you rudely interrupted me,” I demanded, ignoring his desire for my name. “Sickened? Far from it, if I may say, you’re quite beautiful; so ugly isn’t a fair name.” His warm smile hadn’t faltered in the slightest, and I began to believe he was genuine. “Katherine Cain,” I admitted, lowering my voice as I lowered my head; staring at the ground in defeat. “Why did you have to save me?”

He hadn't let go of me yet, but I also hadn't fully regained the use of my legs yet either. “Yeah,” I grinned, knowing I was blushing like a fool. “Just stepped back funny. I'm okay.” He waited just an extra moment before releasing me. I didn't want him to let me go. I was considering falling again, just to have him touch me, but I didn't want to appear weak or too obvious. “Berthe Morisot,” he replied, looking back at the painting. “One of the 'les trois grandes dames' of impressionism. I like this one, but there's something about her landscapes that appeal to me more.”

Sparse gray hair framed her gaunt, elderly face. When she saw Marigold and me walking hand in hand, with Daniel, now toddling along, her lifeless, dull eyes suddenly flared with astonishment. It was like a brief flicker of life in a dying flame. I smiled before saying, "Ms. Callaghan, I almost forgot to tell you—today marks 23 years since Mari and I met. Don't you think it's a wonderful day to celebrate?" "You… You…" Florence stammered, but no coherent words came out.

she murmured, her voice trembling like the last note of a song fading in a vast hall. His lips curved into a smile, and a soft hum escaped him. He took in her face—those delicate features, those eyes like pools of golden honey—and then, without a word, leaned in. This time, the kiss was different. Slower. Gentler. So tender that it might have softened stone. So delicate that even her pride could not fight it. She kissed him back—quietly, almost reverently—her lips moving with his, giving and receiving, drawing quiet sighs from the air around them. A subtle music bloomed within the enclosed walls, soft as breath, before fading once more into stillness.

I didn’t know what exactly I was expecting, but he was a much better kisser than I thought. He grinded his hips against mine, and I felt the hard bulge underneath his robe, while his hand busied with tracing the curves of my breasts. I moaned into the kiss and pulled him closer, running my fingers through his long, dark locks. Calum Reed then licked my bottom lip once more, his tongue begging for entrance. I gladly complied and opened my mouth a little to welcome him and the metallic taste of my blood. A few moments later, he pulled away from the kiss, but only to trace even more kisses down my neck and my collarbones until he was sucking on an erect nipple. My shoulders jerked back immediat