Kiss The Dead Novels & Stories

I found myself aching to kiss him. Robbie raised the bucket over my head, his strong arms steady as he prepared to pour it. I stepped in close to him, and he let the water fall over us. I stood on tiptoe and found his lips with mine, the water cascading around us. This kiss wasn't the innocent first taste of love between two friends. Robbie didn't freeze this time, no longer a boy unsure of oncoming masculinity. This time, he let the bucket fall, his fingers tangling in my hair as he pressed his lips against mine. His body met mine, his heat seeping through wet clothes and filling me with a fire of want. Our tongues met, the taste of freshwater mixing in with the kiss. It was sweet and clean

Anna said "Shut up dude, you're going to freak her out" Dawney said hitting her on the head. Zenith forced a smile on her face. "And who do we have here; if it isn't Dawney" a girl from nearby says. Zenith looks at her, noticing how beautiful and fully developed she is in the right places. The girl walks up to them, giving Dawney a kiss on the cheeks. "And who is this " the girl said walking up to Zenith.

The sight must have been filthy and beautiful at the same time because Adrian stared down at me with dark, burning eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He gently lifted my face with both hands, tilting my chin upward so he could look at me properly. His thumb brushed across my lower lip, smearing his own cum across my swollen mouth. Without a word, he leaned down closer, his face inches from mine. His breath was hot and ragged against my skin. Then he kissed me , deep, possessive, and hungry. His tongue pushed into my open mouth, tasting himself on me, licking into the mess he had made. The kiss was sloppy, wet, and intensely erotic as he shared his cum between us, groani

we are all pawns in his game. He met my gaze, and his lips curled up in a cold, humourless smile, but his eyes.... his eyes lit up with something else. Something that was deathly close to the thin line between pure hatred and unfiltered desire.

That an Unfortunate cannot initiate physical contact with a Fortunate, intimate or otherwise? "Kissing you is unlawful. It's punishable by death." Kade's lips quirk at the corner, a twitch I'd have missed if I blinked. "Disobeying me is unlawful. Also punishable by death." I swallow hard. "How do I kiss you?" "Like you're trying to seduce me into sleeping with you." I lick my lips and hold my breath. How hard can it be? I dip my head and press my lips to his. It's a quick peck I barely feel, earning raised eyebrows from the imperious Kaden Sario.

She never wanted her kids to grow up in this darkness. Damon’s fury finally softened, though the madness still lingered in his eyes. He pulled her close and kissed her — and she didn’t protest. But it wasn’t passion, nor love. It was raw, hard, consuming, a collision of desperation and violence. She could taste blood on his lips, acrid smoke clinging to his breath, the metallic tang searing her tongue. The kiss was suffocating, unhinged, more like a claim than an embrace.

"Instead you chose another, far deadlier path. You stole my entire existence and ran like a fucking thief in the night. For that you will pay." Before I can respond he takes my lips with his in a brutal kiss. This is not a kiss of passion or love, this is a kiss of pain and revenge, of a man who thinks he has been wronged. This is the worst kiss of my life. He seeks entrance with his tongue and I refuse him. He releases one of my wrists, reaches up and grips my jaw, forcing my mouth open. One of my lips grinds against a tooth, cutting. Blood fills my mouth and I cry out, but the sound is swallowed by his vicious kiss.

I growled, already sitting up, the girl squealing and grabbing for the sheets. “You lost your goddamn mind?” He didn’t blink. Didn’t apologize. Just said one name. “Dmitri Solokov is dead.” Silence crashed into the room like a bullet. I stared at him. “What?” “Dead. Gone. His compound's a crater. His body’s barely recognizable, but it’s him. Dental records confirmed.” The girl gasped. “Wait—the Dmitri? The king of—” “Get out,” I snapped. She blinked. “But I—”

he rasped, his voice rough from the strain of his wounds. "Always," she said, her voice breaking. She leaned down, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was filled with all the things she couldn't say, all the emotions she couldn't contain. The kiss was desperate, frantic—an expression of relief, a plea, a promise all wrapped into one. It was a kiss that spoke of the bond they shared, the bond that could never be broken, not even by death itself.

Since I have no chill, I declare to the empty bar: “This is it. I’ve peaked.” Kyle snorts, cupping the back of my head. “Come here.” Our kiss is slow and deep and filthy, tongues sliding together and teeth grazing bottom lips. We don’t come up for air, because that is what nostrils are for: to let you kiss a sexy older man until your head spins. I get it now. “Mmph.” I’ve given up on words. Why speak, when my mouth is better occupied? Better to kiss Kyle like it’s my last night alive, grinding against the hard bulge in his jeans, and let my body do the talking. It’s sure got enough confessions to make.