Taste Like War Book Novels & Stories

“Why the fuc—” The words in the book made my eyes widen. My gaze darted across the page, faster, almost afraid of what I’d find next. He taps the tip of the gun on my mouth, effectively cutting me off. The rest of my words dissipate as he slides the gun across my lips as if he is painting them with lipstick. My fingers tightened on the book, breath catching in my throat. “Suck,” he orders, his tone deepening with finality. Closing my eyes against more tears, I open my mouth and let him guide the gun between my teeth. I squeeze my lids tighter as I twirl my tongue over the cold metal, cringing from the nasty taste.

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I felt it in the way his cock swelled even more inside my mouth. And then he finally came. A thick, hot burst of cum flooded my mouth, and I gasped, but his hand held my head firm, preventing me from pulling back. “Swallow it,” he ordered, his voice strained and panting. “All of it.” And I did. I swallowed every single drop, my body trembling as I obeyed, not wanting to waste a single drop of his gift to me. The salty, slightly bitter taste lingered on my tongue, something sinful and yet utterly delicious, a perfect communion of our shared depravity.

Damian? I knew that face. It was impossible to forget what he looked like. The perfectly sculpted jawline, the sharp cheekbones, the arrogant slant of his brows. His hazel eyes stared down at me—cold, unreadable, calculating. He studied me with those eyes, eyes that make me want to squirm and hide behind a wall where they could not burn through me, but my feet had grown roots in seconds making it hard for me to move. His tousled dark hair fell over his forehead like it always did in school, just messy enough to look deliberate. He hadn’t changed. Just grown more dangerous.

Aisie: Where are you? I put down the phone. Well, if I told her I'm eating in a Chinese diner, she would not be pleased by it. That girl doesn't appreciate anything about Chinese because her last boyfriend is Chinese, and a manipulative bastard. Glancing at the pocketbook I have while eating is kinda tough. It's either I'll keep reading or concentrate on eating, so I decided to put it back in my bag. I'll read it later when I get home. So we have two more subjects to go; science and literature before the day's classes ended.

And in a war like this, love was the easiest thing to kill. End of Chapter 16

~ Flashback ~ ~ 2 days ago ~ ~ 2:34 pm ~ × Trix × As I flip through the pages in front of me and realize that a war is indeed coming, I let out a growl. The weight of the realization bears down on me, and I can almost feel the thick clouds of conflict gathering over our pack. The old, dusty book lies open on the table and I wondered how long the book has existed. Definitely way before my parent's parent's existence.

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Yet, they could see through my facade and they knew that I was keeping a brave face. I sighed and looked at the books kept on a shelf beside me. “The art of war,” I muttered the name before picking out a copy. It was a great book from what I had heard but I had not read it yet. Something about it always put me off to read. With a sigh, I leaned back in my seat and smiled. This was not how I wanted this day to go. Me, sitting here reading a strange book while Jakeson tortured the rogue. I felt like my insides were going to burn with the amount of anger and jealousy I was feeling at this moment.

I hold her arm and take her out of this tensed environment back to our room. I bare my teeth at him and he backs off, lingering out of the room casually. She gets up off of my lap and looks at me. "I have never liked war," she murmurs softly. "They result in massacres. Blood bathes the street, corpses litter the forests, and the smell of death lingers in the air for weeks."