Kissing Skulls Novels & Stories

CHAPTER EIGHT The initial shock of Maleficent’s lips claiming mine left me briefly paralyzed. At first, I was like… What the…? I’m being kissed. Then I was like… Holy wow, I’m being kissed well. After that, it was all just… Mmm. Nice.

She still didn’t have a complete picture but they were starting to feel familiar… Her eyes snapped open at the sound of Sasha’s scream. She saw, in their pale light, a four-armed ice creature towering above him. Sasha had somehow managed to block, with only his Everlite crystal, the creature’s wicked-looking kukri blade that had come down in a chop.

Suddenly she could place the odor being carried in the wind--it was the stench of rot and spilled blood, of putrefying flesh. Along the bottom of the palisades were sun-bleached, weathered skulls, whipped white and clean by the wind and the sun. Along the top, the skulls looked fresher. That is, they were still clearly peoples heads--thick manes of black hair, skin mostly intact. But the skulls in the middle were someplace between mortal and monster: The frayed skin was peeling back, leaving dried brown blood on bone. The faces were stretched tight with what might have been terror or rage. Lawrence staggered away, hoping for a breath of air that didnt stink of rot, but not finding it.

They were thousands of wooden stakes driven into the permafrost, and on each stake was a skull. "The Blood-Crag border," Leo said, joining us at the ridge. He looked at the field of skulls with a grimace. "Silas used to tell me these were the enemies of the pack. I realize now they were probably just the ones who asked too many questions." As we walked through the Whisper-Posts, a sound began to rise. It wasn't the wind. It was a literal whisper—thousands of voices, dry and rattling, coming from the empty eye sockets of the skulls.

Above them, the ceiling cracked open, revealing a starless sky that pulsed like a beating heart. Nihareth lifted both arms. "Bring me the final relic." A female follower approached, cradling an ornate golden skull wreathed in thorns. She knelt and offered it forward, her hands trembling. "The Skull of Orun, taken from the old vault in the east." Nihareth took it with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He turned to the altar and placed the skull into the hollow at its center. The air turned colder instantly. The ground beneath them shook.

Inhaling, he thrusts in at the same time and then our flesh hitting together makes a loud slapping sound. Instantly, it makes me want more, so I butt him again with my ass and then say, “Harder.” As I turn my head and glance at him. He grants me my wish and then suddenly he yells, “I’m Cumming, and then we both orgasm at the same time.

And he has a Chinese writing tattoo on the side of his neck. He is still wearing the same vest from morning and the dark jeans. Wait, he looks like Ethan. Yes, I remember now, that’s exactly who it is. Ethan Guvaski, my first kiss and middle school crush. How is he here though? He was the one from this morning too, but his head was bowed in the morning so I couldn’t recognize him. He has changed a lot. It’s been so many years. I stopped being friends with him after those girls scratched my face in middle school. I felt really stupid for doing that right now.

that’s the infamous grandma Lucas is so scared of…. Adonis looks at her with a strange expression, pursing his lips. He still hasn’t uttered a word, and it confuses me. Is he so high on ego that he does not think anyone else is worthy of his voice? He grimaces, turns from his grandmother to glare at me, and with one hard glare, he taps three times. “Mr Thornewood has agreed…but on one condition.” Mr. Richards says again, speaking for Adonis. “What is it?” “He wants Miss Venus in the kissing booth with him.”

Ma’am… ma’am.” The voice keeps poking at the edges of my dream, irritating and sharp—completely out of place because I’m busy imagining Tairan, my new fictional obsession, doing absolutely unholy things to me in a forest made of neon lights and by unholy I mean burning my palms with melting wax and using the fire to melt it again after it solidifies, yeah he's the psycho in my book that I'm in love with. But back to the topic. No one calls him “ma’am,” so obviously something is wrong in this universe.

His kiss sent a bolt of hunger through me so strong, I wasn't sure I could survive it. The all consuming thought of having him naked spurred my fingers to the hem of his shirt. He only paused long enough from his kisses to pull it over his head before greedily finding my mouth again. I arched into him, wanting bare skin to skin but tolerating having just my hands on him for the moment. His skin was smooth and hot under my fingers. The ridges of old scars flowed into the strength and firmness of his muscles. Just touching him was a drug and I couldn't get enough. Neither could he.