Roy Mustang Vs Lust Novels & Stories

Terrified her mother would hear, she twisted her head and sank her teeth into the thick muscle of his shoulder. Xavier snarled at the bite, the pain only making him thrust harder. “That’s it—fight me, sweetheart. Fucking mark me.” He pulled back and slammed in again, the bed creaking louder, wood splintering faintly under the force. The rhythm was merciless—deep, punishing strokes that made her breasts bounce and the headboard knock against the wall.

But now, it seemed that Ethan's feelings for Mira ran deep, and he was willing to prove his love for her. Max's eyes narrowed, a competitive glint appearing in them. "You think you can win against me?" he asked, a challenge in his voice. Ethan's expression remained resolute. "I'm willing to try," he said, his voice firm. The brothers stood facing each other, the air thick with tension and unspoken rivalry.

Raw, wide, burning. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t be. They moved. No gentleness. Only force. In. Out. In. Out. Hell’s rhythm. “You’ll be nothing after this,” Lust said, breathless. “Nothing but our toy,” Wrath agreed, guttural. And I loved it. In the madness, I moved back—meeting them, chasing more. Begging without words. My hole stretched like it belonged. My cock was hard again. Close.

There was a time I would have retorted with something bitchy, but that was then and this is now. “Holy shit, does he drive an Aston?” I ask as my eyes pop out of my head at the sight of the gun-metal gray Aston Martin parked on the drive. “Fucking looks like it. Fuck him, Roxy we can buy ten of them if we want. Not my car of choice.” I chuckle. “Blake, are you a bit jealous?” He turns and glares at me. Okay, I may be pushing his buttons and I shouldn’t do that. He is already on edge over dinner. “Sorry, I was just teasing,” I tell him.

“What? Is that- is that going to be a problem?” “Damian, the light beams are always a problem, but three parts of Lust is an abomination and they'll never stand for that. Two have to go.” That sent a shiver down my spine, and not in a good way. If it came down to a fight, Cyrus would lose. No sugarcoating. That man beside him wasn't just built like a brick wall, but he had enough experience to take on his nineteen year old son and he'd do so with the flick of a finger.

She explained from her own knowledge. "And what about self control and self respect?" Victoria countered. "I mean not all men are after getting in-between the legs of any woman. Some men would never and they carry themselves in high esteem and that's how I see Mr Smith. He isn't one who would easily fall for just anyone. He carries himself in pride and Mrs Sinclair is definitely the last woman he'd engage himself with." Victoria defended. "Are you sure? are you? Every man is calm on the outside but you don't wanna see the beast in them. Do you know Shy men are fucking good at sex? Do not take their shyness as an inability to be bad in bed." Flora countered.

Mr Smith paced around his office as he looked at his wrist watch every once in a while to know the time. He has been restless since Victoria left with Landon. He couldn't concentrate on his work as the memory of Victor laughing at Landon filled his head. He was a man of patience but today he just wasn't having enough patience. He looked out through his glass and then saw a familiar jaguar drive in. He felt a little bit of relief knowing it was Landon's. Landon came out of the car, went to the other side and opened it for Victoria.

Cocks thrusting, mouths devouring, hands pinching nipples, slapping ass, pulling hair. Dirty talk pours over me like oil: “Fuck, she’s tight—clenching like she never wants us to stop.” “Swallow my come again, paid girl—every drop.” “Ride it, baby—milk us dry.” “You love being our cumdump, don’t you?” I do. God, I do. Orgasms crash one after another—first from the dual pounding, cunt and ass spasming; then from Lena grinding on my tongue while fingers rub my clit; then a shattering third when Jax pinches my nipples and growls, “Come for your owners.”

I growled. I grabbed Rose’s head and pushed deep into her throat as I exploded, pumping the first thick ropes straight down my wife’s throat. She swallowed as much as she could, coughing and drooling. I pulled out and sprayed the rest across both their faces and tits — long, hot streaks of cum painting their skin. They looked up at me, cum dripping from their chins, breathing hard. Rose smiled shyly, licking some cum from her lips. “I… I liked that. I want more. I want to learn everything.”

"You drive like you fight, and we’re going to have a very long night when this is over." "If I wanted a cheerleader, I'd hire a professional," Madison muttered. She slid into the cockpit. The seat molded to her spine, a tight, claustrophobic embrace. She flicked the ignition toggle. The engine behind her head didn't just roar; it barked, a guttural, predatory sound that vibrated through her teeth. Austin’s tuned Mustang pulled up beside her. He revved the engine, the sound tinny and desperate compared to the Lykan. He glared through the tinted glass, his hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. Behind him, the starting girl raised a checkered flag.