Romans & histoires The Fire Inside Flamin Hot

“Do you like cinnamon sticks and whipped cream?” “No whipped cream, yes to the cinnamon stick.” To be honest, I’d never tried cinnamon in my hot chocolate, but I figured if I didn’t like it, I could just take it out and throw it away or something. He moved around me, grabbing a small pan off the pot rack, and set it on the stove. I stepped back and decided to just get out of his way and watch him. He could probably move around his kitchen with his eyes closed. His house was impeccable, with nothing out of place. He pulled the gallon of milk from the fridge and poured some into the pot before putting it back. With a single click, the gas flames came on and licked the bottom of the pan. He tur

A man in a uniform is sexy, but a firefighter who just saved my cabin from flames has given me a feeling in my stomach I’ve never felt before. A tree beside us bursts back into flames and Ben runs to get the hose to put it out. Oh no not again.

The waiter comes in with their order and settled it in front of them before excusing himself “so when did you plan on going” “After your mate birthday, moreover we want to be here when she is sworn in as the Luna” He has forgotten about it, he was more passionate about making up his mistake with his mate that he forgot about the ceremony “oh, that is true, we will be doing it with her birthday together then” Rose was happy and also nervous at the same time, she will be the Luna of the pack instead of that slut, thinking about her, she wanted to puke. After their lunch, they drove back to the park house, and the ladies leaving the guys to bring their loads in as they went inside, the men stru

Chapter 81 DISASTER FIRA’S POV I was excited to bring the hot chocolate to the room of King Fire. I was about to knock when I heard someone talking inside. My smile faded as I realized what the conversation was all about. It was Zephyrus and Pyro, they seemed arguing.

The pungent smell fills the air, and I can already feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Once satisfied with the trail I've left, I exit the building. At a safe distance, I flick open my lighter, the flame dancing in the darkness. Without hesitation, I toss it into the kerosene-soaked path. Instantly, the fire ignites, roaring to life as it consumes the restaurant.

He had had that little interior decoration company thoroughly checked, and there was just enough money to pay everyone, and put something in her and Jasmine’s pocket. “The fire started from the side, and traveled upwards, towards Kayla’s part of the building. It was done in such a way that if there was no footage evidence, then there would be no way anyone wouldn’t have thought that the fire started there. I mean, look at the thin line from which the sparks traveled, coupled with the fact that there were flammable materials kept there, in the storage for their decor job. Oh man.” Damien explained, leaning over Oliver as he pointed out the points which were marked with red on the gridded phot

Fire was a living thing. I had learned that a long time ago. It breathed, it consumed, and it destroyed everything in its path. But this fire—this wildfire—was different. It wasn’t just alive. It was hungry. The flames roared behind us, devouring the dry forest in seconds, the sky above turning black with smoke. Every gust of wind sent embers spiraling into the air, carried on the back of a storm that seemed hell-bent on chasing us down. The heat was unbearable, like standing too close to an open furnace, and the air was thick with the acrid stench of burning wood and ash.

"You're my boss. Protecting you is my job." "Ha!" His eyes lit up instantly as he lunged at me. I instinctively pushed him away, and he slammed into the wall. Grimacing in pain, he smiled even brighter. "It's the first time I've seen a woman like you. You've got fire." Simon pulled out a cigar and held it between his teeth. "Marry me." We fell in love in the time it took one cigar to burn down. Later, we learned we were meant to be each other's arranged match.

The arm holding my wrist flexed. “You want it,” he said, voice dropping lower. “You want me to shut you up the only way that works.” “I want you to go to hell.” “No you don't.” he murmured. He stroked me faster, fist tight, using my own precum as lube until the sound turned wet and filthy. My hips kept moving without my permission—small, aborted thrusts into his hand. Shame burned hot under my skin. Hate burned hotter. I could feel how soaked I already was, the head of my cock glossy and dripping onto the floor in slow drops.

Still, she found herself holding her breath when Ralin’s fingertip contacted the flame. The green fire curled up around both sides of Ralin’s finger. No smell of burning flesh accompanied the sight, no sizzle of skin igniting. He held his finger in the flame for several long seconds, watching the fire dance around his flesh, then seemed to grow bored with the whole thing. Instead, he slid his fingertip through the icing atop the cake, gathering a thick glob of the sticky green coating onto his finger, which he promptly stuck into his mouth, giggling delightedly the whole time.