My Possessive Alpha Wants Me Back
He looks unalive, a mere shell of a man.
Denzel leans down, his breath reeking of decay, and slowly kisses me.
The kiss is deep and disgusting, making my stomach churn with revulsion.
His lips are dry and stretchy, like worn leather.
I hesitate for a moment before clamping my teeth against his lips, using every last ounce of strength to bite down.
I want to tear the life out of him, to rip away the evil that animates his undead form.
He snaps back, his eyes flashing with surprise, and I see that I've managed to cut a small part of his lips with my teeth. But he doesn't bleed. Instead, layers of skin sag, revealing the rot beneath.
Bab Populer