Longing Look Novels & Stories

I bounced slightly, spreading my legs in invitation, the thong soaked and clinging. Rowan stripped quickly, shirt hitting the floor, pants following. His cock sprang free, thick and long, at least eight inches, veined and curving slightly upward, the head glistening with pre-cum. My mouth watered at the sight, core clenching in anticipation. He was built like a warrior: abs rippling, thighs powerful, every inch screaming control. He crawled over me, caging me with his arms. "Tell me you want this," he demanded, his tip nudging my thigh, hot and heavy.

She gazed at her reflection and let out a soft, contented sigh, knowing she looked like a vision of desire. Gloria seemed a goddess of seduction, a woman who revelled in her sensuality. Her movements were fluid and captivating as she slowly approached Lawrence, her eyes, dark pools of desire, locked on his. "How do I look?" Gloria asked, her voice a husky whisper, filled with a complex blend of excitement at his reaction and a subtle vulnerability.

I wanted to look away but her longing eyes gazing directly into mine set my eyes right on her, not swaying anywhere. I coughed when I felt one of the chips in my mouth moving to the back of my head. I grabbed a bottle of water from the bag and gulped it down, my eyes still fixed on her. When she watched me drinking the water, I saw the expression on her face change from just the normal look to a gaze that spoke volume of her longing and admiration for me. I thought I was only imagining things and I was just thinking based on what I wanted things to be between us.

I looked at Valentine. His face was ghost white. A thick muscle twitched in his locked jaw, but his eyes were the worst part. He wasn't glaring. He wasn't roaring at security to drag her out by her hair. He was just staring at her. That shock on his face slowly melted into a flicker of longing. It was fast, a split second, but I saw it. I saw the way his shoulders dropped, the way his chest heaved as he took in every detail of her face.

His green eyes. Asher stared at me a distance away, when his eyes flicked to the direction of Ambrose and Alys, a look came. Longing. I wondered if that was the same look on my face. He looked back at me, eyes beseeching, and for some reason it felt like we were thinking the same thing. ‘That could have been us.’ He looked back at me, eyes beseeching, and for some reason it felt like we were thinking the same thing.

he counters, his eyes locked onto mine. We are so close now I can feel the pace of his breathing. His gaze drops to my lips, and I can see the hunger there, the same longing that has been burning in me for a year. I don't want to wait. I stretch upward, standing on my tiptoes, and I press my lips to his.

It was a look that sought to claim and dominate, a silent assertion of his power. As Lily's garments began to fall away, Zale's eyes remained locked on her, his hunger palpable. The intensity of his stare seemed to strip away any remaining layers of her vulnerability, leaving her exposed to his desires. It was a look that bordered on obsession, a hunger that knew no boundaries.

Vesperian watched her face the whole time, his red eyes dark with hunger. “This is only preparation,” he said. “When the full moon rises, I will take you completely. I will stretch this tight virgin pussy and fill you with my seed. You will scream my name, Liora and you will beg for more.” His fingers kept rubbing her, slow and steady. Liora’s breathing grew heavier. She felt ashamed of how good it felt, but she couldn’t stop her body from reacting. Her nipples were hard, her pussy growing wetter under his touch.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Sir,” the assistant murmured, “you’ve been staring too long. Someone might notice.” But the man didn’t answer. His expression was unreadable to anyone else…. cold, composed of the mask of authority he wore everywhere. Yet his eyes betrayed something far deeper, a quiet, aching longing, the kind that years of distance had only sharpened. The assistant followed his gaze, recognizing immediately the woman at the counter. His lips parted in quiet surprise. “That’s her… isn’t it?”

The third time I had spent the entire evening watching Adrian move through a room of powerful people with the fluid ease of someone who had been trained for exactly this since childhood, and I had felt, beneath all the other things I was feeling, something that I had refused to name. I named it now, standing in front of the mirror in my room, clipping a small pearl earring into place. Longing. I had felt longing. For a version of him that didn’t exist and had never existed and that I had constructed entirely from the occasional unguarded moment and the persistent, foolish hope of someone who had not yet learned better. I was done with that particular construction.