Slow Comfortable Screw Up Against The Wall

My blood runs cold as he pulls me closer to him, "A fucken restraining order Shey!" he says through gritted teeth as his hold on me becomes harder. I try to pull myself out of his grip but I am pushed up against a wall, with his body pinning me beneath his. His hot breath on my neck as he inhales my perfume, he is holding my one hand behind my back as he tries to undress me with the other. "How will you ever learn Shey? You. Are. Mine!" I let out a whimper but his grip only got tighter. He pulls me away from the wall only to push my back against the wall, my cries for help being muffled by his harsh kiss as he pulls down my top and fondles my right . I move harshly under his grip as I try to come free but he only backs away and punches me in the face causing my body to be thrown to the floor. I hit the ground hard as I felt my body ache and tears start to fall, "Help!" I cry out "Can someone please help me!" I yell. I am then picked up by Bruno and thrown into the wall again, my cries becoming more agonising, "You are going to wish you never left me !"

His mouth claimed hers with a hunger he’d clearly been holding back for years, tongue sliding deep, slow, possessive. Large hands mapped her body like he’d memorized it from stolen glances—cupping her breasts through her thin top, thumbs circling her nipples until they ached and peaked. “You’ve been driving me crazy,” he rasped against her throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Every time you walked through that door in those little sundresses…” He backed her against the wall, one thigh pressing firmly between hers so she could grind down on the hard ridge of him. Melanie whimpered, already soaked, hips rolling shamelessly. Marcus groaned approval, fingers slipping beneath her skirt to find her drenched panties. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathed, stroking her clit through the lace in slow, deliberate circles. “So wet for me already. Been thinking about this?” “Yes—God, yes,” she gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. ********** She knew it was wrong, craving her best friend’s father, but it was a sin she was willing to indulge in... damn the consequences, even if that includes a heartbreak.

I marry Mason Longbright, my savior, at 24. For five years, Mason's erectile dysfunction and bipolar disorder keep us from ever sleeping together. He can't satisfy me when I want him, so he uses toys on me instead. But during his manic episodes, his touch turns into torment, leaving me bruised and broken. On my birthday night, I catch Mason in bed with another woman. Skin against skin, Mason drives into Amy Becker with a rough, ravenous urgency, his desire consuming her like a starving beast. Our friends and family are shocked, but no one is more devastated than I am. And when Mason keeps choosing Amy over me at home, I finally decide to let him go. I always thought his condition kept him from loving me, but it turns out he simply can't get it up with me at all. I book a plane ticket and instruct my lawyer to deliver the divorce papers. I am determined to leave him. To my surprise, Mason comes looking for me and falls to his knees, begging for forgiveness. But this time, I choose to treat myself better.

“Jim,” she moaned. “Please don’t go…” “No way, baby.” He held her face in both of his hands, his thumbs tracing the curve of her perfect lips. “I’m not going anywhere.” He spun her now, pushed her up against the wall next to the door. His arms were raised above her, his hands flat on the wall, and he lowered his head to kiss her, slow and hot. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he almost groaned to feel those hands on him. “Kat,” he said against her mouth, his voice hoarse with want. “I need you.” **** Katherine Lawrence has built her life around disappearing. No records. No roots. A packed suitcase by the door. New hair every two weeks. No past, no attachments, and no reason to stay. When she’s finally forced to spill her secrets to a group of ex–Rangers and an ex-sniper, Jim Alden is assigned one job: keep Kat alive… and keep her from running. Jim is as guarded and dangerous as she is infuriating. He wants to shake her for her distrust – and kiss her until she forgets how to flee. When Kat’s past finally claws into the light, Jim makes her a promise she doesn’t believe anyone can keep: safety, honesty, and a place to stand still. But the past never stops hunting. As old enemies close in and lives hang in the balance, Kat is ready to vanish again, alone, afraid, and free. Unless Jim can convince her that staying is worth the risk… and that this time, she won’t have to run.

I, Caspian Montgomery, have returned from the hellhole prison. I’ll use this Nine-Foot Titan Sword to move mountains, part the seas, cultivate myself to ascension, and rule the world.

I, Daphne Thorn, am an impoverished woman from the slums. William Blackburn, on the other hand, is the son of the richest man in Wylland. Unexpectedly, the two of us who share such vastly different identities end up being together. So far, we've tried out various difficult positions in our bouts of passion during our secret rendezvouses in secluded areas. Like the madman he is, William often torments me in every session. I'm so exhausted that I'm about to fall asleep. That's when a notification pops up on William's phone, which is sitting next to me. So, I take a peek at it. "William, my stomach hurts a lot! I'm suffering so much right now!" It's a text from someone named "Ellie". All the exhaustion in me disappears. I can feel my chest tightening up in discomfort. Once William is done with his shower, he leaves the bathroom and picks up his phone. "You should sleep first. I'm heading out," he says. When I see William turning his back on me, I blurt out, "Are you going to meet that childhood sweetheart of yours?" William wheels around to look at me. Suddenly, he moves to lift my chin. There is a trace of wariness in his eyes. "Don't go around sticking your nose in my business, Daphne. I like my woman docile and obedient." But I end up stalking William all the way to Royale Hotel, where I witness him visiting Elaine Moore, his childhood sweetheart. He coaxes her as though she's the most precious treasure in the world. I don't have the courage to question William in person. But still, I want to know who he thinks is more important to him—me or Elaine? So, I give him a call. "William, my gastritis is acting up again! It hurts so much! Can you drive me to the hospital?" I said. I use the same tactic that Elaine had used earlier. That night, I keep waiting for William, and yet he never returns to me. That's when I decide to not love him anymore.

I have been married to Andrew Connolly for four years, but whenever his gaze meets mine, there is no recognition at all. Even my voice doesn't register. He remembers everyone around him, yet the one person he never remembers is that I am his wife. If I put on a hat, he asks who I am. When I tie my hair up, he assumes I am a new hire at his company. To help him remember, I repeat the same outfit, the same makeup, the same hairstyle. Still, despite my daily presence, he treats me like a stranger. I tell myself Andrew is simply buried in work, that the neglect is accidental, right up until a concert night. I watch him cut through the crowd and embrace his first love, whom he has not seen in years. When the stage suddenly collapses, I seize his arm and beg, "Honey, please save me." Andrew shoves me away, his voice flat and cold. "You're not my wife. My wife is at home." I am crushed beneath the falling debris. Choking on blood, I can only watch as Andrew rescues his first love and walks away. That is when I realize it's not that he can't remember me, he just doesn't love me. The bodyguards drag me out of the wreckage. Later, I spend a month confined to bed with serious injuries. While I am in the hospital, I get a photo of Andrew kissing his first love. The blows land one after another and mercilessly jerk me awake. I am done with love, and I am done with him!

I'm reading a book about a boy who bullies a girl, but they end up in love? Screw that; if it were me, I'd ruin the plot.

When the fire broke out, I called my husband, Hector. He didn't answer. Instead, he ran straight into the flames—to save my sister, Emma. They held each other, clinging to life, while I was trapped in the basement, watching my calls go ignored until all hope burned out. Afterward, Emma played innocent, twisting everything. She told him, "Hector, don't blame Sienna. She didn't leave me on purpose... she was just scared." Her lie made me the villain, and everyone bought it. Fueled by hatred, Hector spat, "She's so vicious—why didn't that fire just take her?" Three months later, the police found my body.

My boyfriend said that art held no restrictions, so he used my provocative paintings to enter a competition. Amidst a row of classic ceramic figurines, I became famous. He shot to fame, landing in the top ten of trending searches, while I was humiliated by the entire internet and mocked as a “ceramic influencer.” When I confronted him, he looked at me with disappointment. “They don’t understand art, and neither do you? I thought you would support my work, but I didn’t expect you to stir trouble! You’re so immature!”