Robin Bone Nude Novels & Stories

I'm on my stomach and soaking up the moment. How can he be so beautiful? Robin is broad-shouldered, with his veins threading his big biceps. His muscles are unmistakably defined and pumped from the gym, straining with his every movement. Heat spreads over my skin. I want Robin's head between my legs, and the image in my brain turns me on even more. I try not to gawk at him as he smiles, but it's impossible when his teeth are all diamonds and pearls. The image seems taken from an erotic daydream.

As soon as she scattered wolfsbane powder over the wound, the blood turned purple-black. Nina thrashed within me, but she couldn't manifest at all. The only sound she could make was a faint whimper.

Working late into the night until she became so pale Robyn tore herself away from our bed to take her best friend out onto the cliffs for a distraction. Four years on Corbin remains a machine. Short dark hair, grey eyes, sharp all black clothes. Never changing. So focused, finger on every single beat and pulse in the pack. He hasn’t needed much guidance from myself. I have been there to advise the bridges, the warrior selection and new buildings. Practical matters I can lose myself in before returning exhausted, not only to my gorgeous dancer, but to my beautiful children. They search my pockets for carvings, knowing a piece for Artem’s toy carriage or a bird whistle for Lucy will appear if

I would come back to him. Julian rose to his feet, swaying. He stumbled to the corner and wrapped both hands around the heavy steel pipe. He closed his eyes. All he could see was me carrying him through the rain. He clenched his jaw, raised the pipe high above his head, and swung it down with every ounce of strength left in his body -- straight into his own left kneecap. *CRACK.* The sickening, brittle snap of shattering bone echoed through the tiny basement. Blinding pain ripped through his entire body. His kneecap was smashed to pieces. His lower leg twisted at a grotesque, unnatural angle.

“He’s lying to you. Ronan and the Rogue King are now enemies of every pack. They won’t bring you and Annie freedom. Freedom only comes if they fall, and that’s what I’m working toward. I have to leave tonight. Waiting puts Annie and all of us at risk. We’re running out of time. Robin sank into the chair by the table, looking empty and lost. He covered his eye with one hand, his shoulders shaking in fear. Every breath seemed like a struggle. “You can’t stop them. They have the mad rogues,” he muttered. “Healer Nadia was close to an antidote before I was kidnapped. She has probably completed it now. Without the mad rogues, Ronan and the Rogue King are nothing,” I explained. Robin did not answe

I’m lucky enough that I’m still breathing. The dark skinned Lycan left me in a room with a connecting bathroom. I’m struggling with just taking off my shirt as I shuffle towards the bathtub. My ribs are definitely broken; every effort I make and breath I take makes me shudder in pain. As I reach the bathtub, I strip from the torn garments. Turning on the faucet, I sit on the edge and lift my left foot to it. Taking off the ripped piece of my pants from my ankle, I close my eyes when it tugs at the dried blood over the gash. The blood had dried and created a crust with the fabric itself. Deep breaths, in and out, I rip the fabric off. Instantly, the wound starts bleeding out, and I clench my

How could she waste so much energy whining about Kael when she had the perfect opportunity to sharpen herself into a weapon that no one could ignore? But Seraphina had always been… softer. Not weak, exactly. Just easily distracted. Easily swayed. And that made her useful, if not dangerous in my palms. A nail technician glided over, bowing slightly before lifting my hand from the water. Her gloved fingers were gentle, methodical, painting my nails in sleek obsidian black. On Seraphina’s other side, another technician fussed with her nails in bright crimson, which matched her need for attention perfectly.

"What's in this?" "Glow-moss roots, crushed iron-root, and a few things you really don't want to know about," Kaelin replied dryly, leaning against her workbench and crossing her scarred arms. "Drink up if you want to keep breathing. Because you have a much bigger problem than a few broken bones." Zeyric took a cautious sip, wincing at the searing, metallic taste before forcing the rest down. "What problem? We have Malakor's ledgers hidden in our boots."

A soft moan slipped out before I could stop it. I bit my lip, eyes fluttering closed, chasing that edge, faster now, thighs trembling. So close. So damn close. Then I looked up. Knox was standing outside the window. Just beyond the glass, shirtless, swim trunks low on his hips, moonlight carving shadows across every ridge of muscle. Arms at his sides. Eyes locked on me. On my hand moving between my legs. On the way my chest heaved, robe gaping open, breasts spilling free.