Kiss The Dead Novels & Stories

Her yells are so broken and her body shakes with fear. The man doesn't stop his developments. He kisses her on her pinky lips generally and afterward he removes her garments. Arosh is alarmed and scared. He keeps on kissing her harder and more profound while contacting her delicate and unadulterated body. He snatched her bosom and his kisses dropped down to her neck and her body. He removes his garments as well and kisses her again on her delicate lips. She messes with him hard, and afterward a weak smell of blood fills in her mouth.

"Those photos aren't edited. They're real." "They've known each other all along and were lying to us right here. How despicable!" With the proof staring everyone in the face, Eva couldn't argue. She resorted to playing the emotional card. "My son and Dr. Summer have deep feelings for each other!" she cried. "They were each other's first love. You forced yourself between them! My son couldn't bear the pain and jumped into the river. This is all your fault!" As the crowd began to waver, Wendy quickly jumped in, forcing a few tears.

She had escaped from the crypt. "He's not dead! He's not dead!" Daphne threw herself onto the coffin, pounding on the lid like a woman possessed, her voice so shredded it was barely human. "Stellan isn't dead! He's not dead! He's not dead! You can't bury him! He's really not dead!" The chapel erupted. Everyone stared at Daphne in shock, then at the coffin, then at each other.

When he finally reached my lips, he paused for a brief second. “Are you sure?” he asked gently. I nodded, and he immediately brought his lips back on mine, laying me softly against the bed. I kissed him back, pouring every ounce of grief into it. My anger. My rage. My pain. Letting him wash it away the best he could with every kiss. Misha was dead. I moaned softly as he broke the kiss, biting down my neck and trailing lower across my body. Misha was dead.

But the only word echoing in my head is karma. And the question that haunts me: who is paying the price? Me? Eva? Annaida? Damon? Because right now, every single one of us is suffering in our own way, caught in the wreckage of what has unraveled. . . . . . . . Hi All, Just a headsup those who have read KISS OF HIS BETRAYAL would clearly understand the insinuations of this chapter. From Chapter 93/94 of KISS OF HIS BETRAYAL.

“Only one kiss per customer.” The audience laughs and Leo blushes. “I just don't want to wait,” he tells the pastor. “I want to kiss her always.” “Well, let her do her part and you can get to the kissing,” the pastor tells him with a smile. “Now, Charlotte, repeat after me.”

The boy grinned as he pinned Kate to the wall and started kissing her neck with his hands squeezing and fiddling with her ass. “Ah.." Kate moaned softly and she started romancing his back with her hands. He lifted her left legs up and Kate hooked it around his waist while he slid his hands and fingers underneath her short gown- feeling the soft skin of her thighs. Kate became hungry for his lips and she made it known to him as shifted his head up from her neck to the position of her face and their lips locked together in a passionate kiss and as they kissed both of them started helping the other to undress with Kate being uncultured in the way she did hers. As she ripped off his shirt button

My subconscious kept yelling at me to stop him but I was lost in the pleasure of his kisses, which made me want more. “I only know two things…” He kissed my cleavage then moved his lips to the right. “To kill and to kiss.” Then his lips traveled to the left. “And whenever I see you, I want to kiss you.” Saying it, he landed his lips on mine. I kissed him back trying to suck away all his sadness, worries, and whatever he was facing. I wrapped my fingers in his hair and pulled him closer to me. He deepened his kiss making me almost lose my breath.

I look at her one last time to make sure she wants it, she nods, I can go. Her eyes are filled with pleasure and still unfulfilled desires. I slowly dive between her folds, gently advancing, I reach a barrier and stop for a moment. I lean towards her to seal our lips in a wild, intoxicating kiss. She returns my kiss eagerly, followed by two minutes of pure bliss. Her mouth is sweet, it tastes of ripe strawberries. I drink from her lips with delight. And I cross the threshold, slowly but surely. She was so focused on the kiss that she didn't feel any pain. Still with my lips pressed to hers, I slowly pull out to enter a second time. She lets out a sigh of relief. I break our kiss to ask her:

When I open my eyes, terrified he might have vanished into thin air, his face obscures the world, and then his mouth is on mine. The kiss isn't gentle; it is a collision. It is a desperate, starving reclamation. It tastes of salt and months of unspoken grief. He latches onto me with a primal ferocity, his hands tangling in my hair as if he’s afraid I’ll dissolve if he lets go for even a second. I grab onto his shoulders like a lifeline, chasing the heat of his mouth with an equal, frantic fervor. It is a fire that burns through the cold void his death had left inside me, reigniting parts of my soul I thought had turned to ash.