The Kiss Of Deception Novels & Stories

In this kiss, she seemed like a girl experiencing her first love, awkward and inexperienced, with only soft and warm lips. But all this warmth was deceptive. Caesar's hand remained under the deep blue pleated skirt, not leaving. As Lola's tongue touched his teeth, the deep blue pleats completely covered his entire hand and wrist. The little liar, full of deceit, was finally honest at this moment. Caesar accurately touched the jasmine. Lola gently rubbed her forehead against him, seemingly enjoying the kiss. Caesar said, "You naughty girl—" Lola lowered her eyes, and finally let out the confused sound a student would make when facing punishment under normal circumstances, "Caesar, teacher?"

Now that I think of it, I remember just how much I was boiling in rage when the realization dawned on me that I had been treading on a path of deceit all along. He deceived me but here I am kissing him with so much vigor like my life depends solely on this. He tricked me. He used me. Instead of pulling away, the kiss becomes more rough. I find myself brushing my tongue against his to gain entrance into his mouth. I find myself tracing the outline of his mouth, kissing each lip and biting on them slowly, earning a low grunt from him. Then I stopped. I flash my eyes open to meet his bright blue eyes, watching me with curiosity and surprise.

He lifted his hand and crooked a finger at her. His gesture was inviting and alluring. Perplexed, Harriet softly exclaimed, "Huh?" Delbert leaned in, his voice captivating as he whispered into her ear, "Kiss me." Harriet's cheeks flushed a deep red. 'Kiss him?' She thought in surprise. Delbert's face was chiseled by God. She could only admire it from a distance, not daring to touch it. Under the watchful eyes of the guests below, Harriet nervously swallowed and slowly leaned in to kiss him on the lips.

I replied, my voice trembling slightly despite my efforts to maintain a firm tone. "For the kiss," I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry," I added, my eyes cast downward in shame. "I promise it will never happen again. Never," I repeated, my gaze fixed on the floor. Ethan's response was unexpected, his tone neutral. "I don't know what you're referring to," he said. "There was no kiss between us." I could discern the deception in his eyes, a fleeting glimmer that betrayed his words. It was clear that he was denying the kiss not because it hadn't happened, but because acknowledging it was the last thing he wanted to do, especially with me.

“I saw what I saw, Deborah. Him. You. The kiss.” Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. “It wasn’t—” He laughed softly, bitterly, the sound like broken glass. “You think that matters? That it changes what it looked like? The cameras might not have caught it, thankfully. But I did saw you two. You’re the face of this empire now, Deb. Every move you make ripples across continents. And you’re kissing the man who once dismantle and pull everything we built.” Deborah straightened, her voice regaining its calm edge. “You think loving him makes me reckless?”

Who would have thought that beneath that innocent, beautiful face lay a cunning, deceitful woman? When the ceremony ended and the priest told me to kiss my bride, my eyes slowly scanned her face, and I couldn’t help gazing at her red, luscious lips. As I crossed the small space between us, I found it hard to accept that her lips were as sweet and soft as I’d imagined them to be. The way her eyes widened in surprise when I kissed her told me she was good at pretending to be an inexperienced kisser. I felt the urge to lengthen and deepen the kiss but when I felt her respond, moaning softly, I realized I had to stop my delusions. I shouldn’t be feeling this way toward this bitch. She may look i

A stolen glance, a playful touch – the dream Deimon delicately built on screen became a tangible reality within her subconscious. Suddenly, the dream shifted. They were no longer on the beach but nestled on the familiar couch in their apartment. The movie screen, now dark, cast long shadows across the room. Deimon's hand, warm and calloused, brushed against hers. A jolt of electricity shot through her, a feeling she'd only experienced in dreams before. Deimon, in her dream, leaned in closer, his blue eyes sparkling with a familiar light. His lips brushed against hers, sending shivers down her spine. The kiss was soft, tentative at first, then deepened, fueled by unspoken desires.

It was time for the kiss. My heart battered against my ribs. I closed my eyes, bracing for the inevitable. The touch of his lips, a dry, papery whisper, a withered branch against my own. I did not recoil, but every fiber of my being screamed in protest. It was not Jonathan's kiss. It was his father, a king whose hands were caked with the dust of centuries of tradition. The kiss was a transaction, a final sealing of my fate.

Who could resist that look? "Just a kiss," I reiterated. "No hands, no-" I narrowed my eyes at his still-stiff dick. "No trying anything funny." "I promise. Just a kiss. Just a simple kiss." He leaned down, and I raised my face to his, expecting a quick, affectionate brush of lips. But no. Nothing to do with Deacon Girard was simple. The moment he touched me, his mouth opened, his tongue was searching for mine, and I felt my body begin to melt.

I leaned closer, my voice a whisper only she could hear. “Congratulations, Mrs Volkov,” I murmured. “You wanted to play pretend? Let’s make it real.” And as the chaos swelled around us, I kissed her. Not gently. Not tenderly. But with deliberate, calculated pressure — sealing a lie so perfect even God might hesitate to judge it. Because in that kiss, I tasted her shudder. And in mine, I gave her a promise. This was no marriage. The crowd could pray all they wanted, but no divine or artificial power aside from mine was invited to this union.