The Sweetest Oblivion Book 2 Novels & Stories

It was scorching like a flame and if auras could be tasted, hers would definitely be bitter. I shuddered, walking over to the first aisle to check it out. The first book that caught my attention was Blood, Pawns and Obsession. It was a dark romance by Rylie Martin. I had one of my projects on hold because I wanted to read this book and get into the head of the psychotic male lead, so I would understand him better and be able to execute my plotline to my taste. The grin on my face unconsciously widened, and I brought the book to my nose, sniffing it in.

FORBIDDEN FLAMES 2 ARIA’S POV The text from Serena arrives just as I flip the café sign to CLOSED, the soft click of the lock echoing in the empty space. My hands still tremble from the day, every customer interaction felt like a distraction from the memory of her mouth on mine yesterday, her fingers teasing me to the edge in the storage closet before pulling back with that wicked smile. "Not yet," she whispered. "We savor the sin." The words have haunted me all shift, making my panties soaked, my nipples hard against my bra, every brush of fabric a reminder.

My heart skipped, my chest pounding, my pulse, jumping I grabbed it — Nothing. Just a dumb weather alert. I let out a breath that wasn’t relief. Nightshade was definitely ignoring me. Levi was intentionally driving into my emotional cracks. Come to think of it, all the men I've encountered so far just wanted one thing. Sex. And I'm definitely sure that's what Levi wants. I sat back on the counter, pouring the juice inside the glass, as the memories of Atticus and me came flooding down. I set my phone face down on the counter.

It was ownership—her grip tightening around the last thing she could still keep from him. The room tilted again as he tried to push himself forward—tried to make his body obey the urgency in his mind—and his strength betrayed him in the same instant. He drew in a breath too quickly, too shallow, the way drowning men do when they break the surface. At first he only tasted the usual bitterness—herbs, wax, medicine—familiar as a prison. Then something sweeter threaded through it. Faint. Almost imagined. He blinked hard, breath hitching. The sweetness lingered anyway, clinging to the back of his throat like a film. It didn’t belong with the herbs. It was too smooth for sickness. Too deliberate.

Dammit, I felt like coming already just hearing those words, but not yet, not until I saw her limp and sated. I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against her earlobe as I whispered in a raspy voice, "You're beautiful. You pleased me. The way you take me, all hungry and desperate, it's driving me insane. I want to make you scream my name until you can't remember anything else."

“I have already informed the head of marketing team, and—“ She swallowed against her dry throat. She noticed his was trying to build walls between them again after the scorching kiss they had in the elevator not so long again. As much as she wanted to hate him for acting cold towards her away, something about the dark look in his eyes aroused her. She was so fucking attracted to everything about him. Both when he was cold or sweet. Wait. Has he ever been sweet to her? He thought. She bit her bottom lips. Maybe only when he was sending her senses in an overdrive. Giving her that much pleasure is him being sweet to her. She wanted to feel his touch on her body. But he was not helping matters b

L smoothly said as if his previous action of pinching the bodyguard to interrupt him wasn't seen by the family. To be so shameless must be a gift. “Of course, it was our pleasure hosting you...” Arya spoke as calmly and fluently as she could muster. She hoped that all the high-class novels she had read in the city library won't fail her. “Then I can leave in peace... Goodbye.” And in less than a minute, the two of them had left their house. “And also, your home truly is lovely...” Mr. L commented as the car drove off.

Ayla sighed. “When we were in Daya’s cave, I had a dream.” She never told him about that dream. “I dreamed of me, of us. We were older, and I was… pregnant.” Rhobart’s eyes fell on her flat stomach, yearning in his dark gaze. She cleared her throat. “It was in this dream that I learned of a book, the forgotten book. I went into the tunnel to look for it,” she finally confessed. Rhobart was silent for a moment. “Why haven’t you told me anything about this book until now? Don’t you trust me?”

This was the ghost that haunted me, the love that had defined and destroyed me. My first instinct, the one that had governed me for two years, was to reach for a bottle. To drown the memory in the familiar, burning embrace of ambrosia. My hand was already moving toward the bedside table where I usually kept a flask. But then I stopped. A different voice cut through the haze of my grief. It wasn’t Arete’s. It was Saea’s, dry and teasing. Oblivion tastes better on a full stomach. The image of her, her white hair catching the firelight as she rolled her eyes at my complaints, flickered in my mind. It was subtle but important: for the first time since Arete died, comfort was beginning to exist s

“Oh my god… fuck… mmm, yes… that feels so good…” He rose higher, mouth moving to her breasts. He licked one nipple in slow, wet circles, then the other, then spat onto the left peak. Warm saliva ran down the soft curve of her breast. He licked it off slowly, sucked the nipple deep into his mouth until she whimpered, and spat again, coating both nipples until they shone under the library lights. Maya’s head fell back. Soft, broken moans kept spilling out of her without restraint. “Ah… ah… Liam… that feels so dirty… mmm—don’t stop… please…”