Quotes About Smoke

[WARNING!! R18+ CONTAINS SMUT SCENES AND OTHER ADULT STUFFS] Devyn Lowell, the youngest daughter of the Lowell Clan. A dominant werewolf omega, who changes sex partners every month in order to maintain her form. She never entered serious relationships. For her, alpha men were just toys. Kiel Arnoux, a recessive werewolf alpha. Living his life as the President’s shadow. Devyn’s personal assistant, who distanced himself and forgot the memories they made as childhood friends. *** “I can’t take her strong pheromones!!” The man who was supposed to be Devyn’s partner for the month stormed out of the room. The female omega sat down and lit a cigarette. A devilish smirk stretched across her cheeks. “What a useless alpha,” Kiel turned to her and bowed. “I apologize. Do you want me to arrange another—” He stopped when Devyn pulled his collar. She blew a smoke and ordered. "Kneel" Kiel wasn't stunned at all. He bent down and kneeled. Devyn grabbed the man by the hair and then she placed one foot on Kiel's chest. "You are so obedient. Do you know that it was a privilege to be stepped on by me?" she smirked. The man nodded. "Thank you for stepping on me, President." *** A hot and steamy connection between a CEO and her assistant. Is LUST the only thing that binds them? What will happen if both of them fall deeper into the dangerous pit of LOVE?

On the run from her adoptive father for five years after being sold to the Russian mafia, Lianna took refuge in the states. She thought New York City was a safe place for her, that it was her ticket out of the mafia world. Little did she know that it’s swarming with people much vile than the place escaped from. This city will pull her deeper into the underworld. ~~ "I'm not her." He stood up from his chair abruptly that it fell behind. It took him three strokes until he was holding my neck, lifting me, and pinning me on the wall as he choked me. He breathes the smoke in my face but I was losing air in my lungs to inhale it. "I've searched for you and you're giving me this crap?" he hissed in my face. "Try something else, Alexa, or I'll bury you alive." He let go of my neck, I gasped for air as my lungs took all the air it needed. It's better if he ends my life anyway. I thought to myself. "Where is it?" he asked as he stood beside the table. "Where is what?" He lifts a tattered knife in his hand as he walks slowly to where I stood now. "I'll carve my name in your chest if you don't stop acting dumb, Alexa." He traced the neckline of my dress with his knife. The pointed cold blade sent shivers all over my being. "Where did you bury my father!?" ~~ [Mature Content] Photo credits to Nikola Jovanovic

“Be a good girl for me and come fucking closer.” Alfred’s voice was husky, and angry. It made me dizzy with sinful lust. I gulped as I obediently closed the distance between us. He inched even closer and I felt my breath hitch when his hands found my thighs and I was hosteled up, back plastered against a wall in an instant. “Who am I?” “My- my husband.” I whispered, mouth quivering. His fingers tangled in my hair, a kiss against my arched throat. “That’s right. You belong to me, and not my fucking idiotic brother. I own everything– your body, your heart and your soul. They’re all mine.” ~~~~ Bella had her life mapped out. Go to med school, graduate, make enough money to get her father and brother a better life, and fall in love. Her plans were destroyed when she found out she had been promised to a Mafia Don as a collateral for a debt. Alfred Winston was someone no sane person wanted to mess with– he was ruthless, filthily rich and very powerful; he wields authority like second nature. How is life as the wife of a Mafia’s Don going to be for Bella? It sure as hell won’t be a bump free ride when Alfred’s younger brother– Damien, was smoking hot and hell bent on heating Bella’s curvy body up with that smoke, and let’s not forget the amount of dangers lurking at every damn corner, ready to consume Bella at the slightest opportunity.

Gina and I were just ordinary werewolves in the Silver Claw Pack. Our incomes were modest, but we married well. Her mate was the captain of the Silver Claw Pack patrol unit. Mine, the fire squad leader. They grew up together—childhood friends—and were the youngest golden duo in the Werewolf Alliance. On the day we married, our mates each bought us a luxury high-rise apartment on the top floor of the central castle, side by side, with the promise of sharing life and death together. That is, until that fateful night. Rogues broke into the central zone. Chaos reached even the upper levels of our building. The tower caught fire. Amidst the thick smoke, I sent a desperate mind-link to my mate. He blocked it. Turns out, both our mates were busy shielding their shared first love, Lifu. They ignored our calls for help. Gina dragged me as we ran. She was six months pregnant; her pup was already kicking from the panic. Her mate never showed up either. We made it to the stairwell, where we were trapped for five hours. Toxic fumes filled our lungs. I went into labor too early. My pup didn't make it. Gina bled for three days in the hospital. Her pup was gone too. Meanwhile, our mates were digging through the wreckage—twenty-four hours straight—searching for Lifu's lost dog. That was it. Right then and there, Gina and I looked at each other and knew. We were done.

"You wanted me to fail," she yelled, her voice shaking with rage and desperation. "You wanted me to prove you right." "No." My voice was a low, feral growl. "I wanted to know if you'd stand your ground. And you did." You stood your ground, held my life in your hand, and chose to keep it breathing. That was all I needed to see. Her defiance was a thin wall, her trembling betraying her. "This doesn't make me yours." I leaned in, my lips a hair's breadth from hers. The scent of her… of wood smoke and sweat, and something wild and unmistakably Lyra… filled my senses. "You already are," I whispered against her lips. "Even in your hate." *************************************** Lyra, the last warrior-heir of Ravengarde, detests Kael, the cruel enemy alpha who murdered her family, burned her castle, and claimed her as his ruthless spoils. Imprisoned in his domineering Shadowfen Keep, her rage is a burning blaze, battling the forbidden, wild linkage that brings her closer with each bitter glance and each jealous touch. She promises to kill him, break free from his shadow magic, even as his control ignites a deadly, forbidden desire in her. But when Lyra learns the horrible truth… that the betrayal that had destroyed her clan was not schemed by Kael, but by her own ruthless bloodline in a lust for power… her world shatters. Every sadistic phrase, every brutal touch she endured under Kael's command now bears an abject truth: the enemy that she had sworn to kill was, in reality, protecting her, and is now very likely the only one who can save her from a much darker fate than his claim.

` It was a cool, breezy and stormy night. Rain came down in sheets, as a dark figure stood before a house. The house was pretty ordinary, white with blue shutters; it didn't have more than two bedrooms. It looked like a cozy little family home with flowers and shrubs lining the front lawn, and then the smell from the pellet stove smoke invaded his nostrils. He took a deep breath and pulled out an old, rusted compass from his black trench coat. It looked like it could have been from the 14th century, the small, brass disc was dented and the Victorian designs were faded. He studied it as it pointed east, towards the small house. He looked the house over carefully, looking for the best entrance, before proceeding towards the side to gaze into the window. Inside you can see the small kitchen; the brand new, all black appliances off set the linoleum floor. Cabinets filled almost every wall of the small space that made it look more crowded than it should have been. The kitchen opened to a larger room which seemed to be used as a living room and a dining room all at once. The whole house looked crowded, with the furniture in the living room all touching except for a small gap to walk through and the dining room was so close to the sofa, it could have been sitting on it. He stepped back into the shadows as he watched a young couple enter the kitchen. The wife was tall and slender, had strawberry blond hair formed around her face accenting her jaw-line and her deep blue eyes stopped your heart as you got lost in them. Her fair complexion was silky and complimented her soft face.

Once I became pregnant, I was hailed as the most precious woman in the underworld. My husband, the new Don of the Jenkins family, shut down an entire private hospital wing for my check-ups, while my father, the Collins Don, summoned every Michelin-starred chef in New York to the estate, just so I could pick whatever I craved. The baby I carried was destined to be the sole heir of the two most powerful mafia families. But on the day we were to sign the papers securing my child's inheritance, they both vanished. "An urgent family matter came up," my husband, Vincent, said, kissing my forehead. "We can finalize the child's inheritance when we get back. There's no rush." Shortly after they left, I received a link to an anonymous live stream. My father's voice came from the video, colder than I had ever heard it. "You're saying your marriage contract with Evangeline was never valid. Doesn't that make the child a bastard?" Vincent, lounging in a club, blew a smoke ring. Cradled in his arms was my half sister, Sarah. "Evangeline has always had all the love and affection. Her child will want for nothing." "Sarah has been mocked for her status for years. I have to make things right for her, give our child a legitimate name." In that moment, my heart seized, and I could barely breathe. Then my phone vibrated again. It was a text message: "Welcome home to the Gallo family, my queen." "Just give the word, and the child you carry will bear the Gallo name and become the most powerful heir in the American underworld."

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Blaze.” I whispered as I tightly clutched his silky shirt, even though it felt so right, even though everything inside me burns brighter when he looks at me— even though my knees buckled right now, when he slowly slotted his firm thigh between my legs. “You know you want it.” He slowly pressed his index finger into my mouth, and my eyes fluttered shut when he pressed an open kiss against my jaw. “But- my brother...” I mumbled around his finger, as I forced my eyes open. He lifted his thigh and pressed it against my core and I let out a stuttered cry as I threw my head back, my knees threatening to give out this time. “... doesn’t have to know.” —————— To hide her dark secrets, Tessy Roper is content with playing the good girl of her college. She keeps up to her grades, doesn’t drink or smoke or go to notorious college parties, and most definitely doesn’t involve herself with pant-dropping bad boys like Blaze Colt - feared gang leader and her elder brother’s best friend. But things take a turn for the worst when her dark secrets get exposed to Blaze Colt and the only way to protect it is to strike a dirty deal with him. Through this sinful man, she’s introduced into a world of whips and chains and one demanding master who’s determined to unravel every perfectly aligned piece of her body - and heart.

Parting his lips, Jordan placed the burning cigarette on his mouth and stood up from his seat before walking towards his shelves containing all his important documents related business, but soon there a light tug on his arm stopped his actions. It was her, he knew it cause no one other than her had the audacity to enter and exit his cabin without his permission. His wife, Hattiea. Or maybe the woman pretending to be his wife? Jordan's dark eyes landed on the culprit immediately with darkness but as soon as he found her behind him close to him... He got lost for a moment or so... The proximity rose slight tension between them. Raising her fingers up, Hattiea pulled the burning cigarette out from his mouth which was still resting on his lips. Her delicate fingers brushed his chin and lips softly. Following by the smoke, he released his minty breath in slight awe, her breath taking face was so close to his face. They both never came so close to one another actually. Even though it had been quite of time getting married with one another, they minded their boundaries well. As it was not any marriage of love for them but a marriage full of compromises. Hattiea's eyes soon travelled up from his lips back to his eyes, which were still staring at her ditching their shame. "It's dangerous for your health." Hattiea exclaimed hinting his smoking habit, while looking right into his eyes. Her hazel eyes were blank yet they held millions of emotions. "So are you!" Jordan's smoky breath caressed her face. The deepness of his voice solely made Hattiea's heart race million times faster. It was true... she was dangerous for him. Way too dangerous to handle.

In Alabama’s rot-soaked bayous, Drucilla Drakes survives by three rules: silence, scars, and never letting Louise—her Bible-thumping captor—catch her hoping. But when a schoolyard ambush leaves her bleeding beneath a stranger’s leather jacket, invisibility becomes a death sentence. Enter Dragon Morales: New Orleans’ most notorious runaway, a cartel prince turned outlaw mechanic with grease-stained hands and a death wish. He doesn’t save people—he survives them. Yet in Dru’s lashed flesh and hellfire gaze, he sees his own shattered reflection. Their bond is gasoline and matches. Dragon’s father—Colombia’s cartel kingpin—hunts them relentlessly. Louise, armed with voodoo rites and the chaos-hungry loa Marinette, vows to break Dru. Their only allies? The Lou Nwa, a bayou biker gang trading in bullets and black magic, and Papa Legba, the crossroads spirit who offers Dru a lethal bargain: *“Her soul or yours.”* Fleeing through the Deep South’s cursed underbelly, they dodge cartel hitmen, haunted swamps, and safehouses reeking of betrayal. Dark magic seeps into old wounds; family secrets tighten like nooses. Dragon swears he’s too ruined to love. Dru knows she’s too shattered to trust. But in the bayou’s choking heat, desire is a grenade they can’t outrun. This isn’t a fairytale. It’s switchblade kisses and saintly curses—a collision of fire and ruin where protectors become predators. Dru doesn’t need saving; she needs an inferno. And Dragon? He’s got a lighter and nothing left to burn. Will they raze the South to ashes, or become the sacrifice the crossroads demands? One truth remains: in the bayou, even survival leaves scars. **Warning:** No princes here. Just bayou smoke, blood-soaked magic, and the kind of love that devours.