These Hollow Vows Smut Mga Nobela at Kwento

Her skin was flushed, sweat-slicked, and her pussy was a sopping mess, clenching weakly around my withdrawing fingers. "My turn," Vanessa panted, her chest heaving, eyes wild with post-orgasmic haze as she pushed me onto my back. My cock stood straight up, veined and glistening from earlier teasing, the head purple and weeping. "And I'm going to make you regret asking for penetration."

“Do you burn?” “Constantly.” “For me?” “For you,” she whispered, her eyes becoming glassy. “Only for you.” He removed the vibrator and let the absence stretch like a physical hunger. “Then confess your darkest desire. What do you want from me?” Her voice was thin and hoarse. “I want to be broken and rebuilt. I want you to strip me of everything I thought I controlled. I want to kneel because it feels like worship.” His mouth curled into something darker than a smile. “You are almost ready.”

Her walls fluttered around him, the pressure building again, her second climax teetering on the edge, the sunlight dancing on her flushed, sweat-slicked skin, the hollow a sanctuary, their bond a radiant light. Jasper’s hands tightened on her hips, his fingers bruising her skin, his thrusts growing faster, harder, the sound of his hips smacking against her ass echoing through the hollow, a primal rhythm that matched the pounding of their hearts, his voice a low, guttural growl, the sunlight illuminating his face, the warmth of the hollow a mirror to the heat in his veins, the air thick with their shared longing, the hollow a sanctuary, their bond a radiant flame. “You’re so tight, Mar—fuck,

Wax bled like veins. The scroll unrolled upward as if time itself was remembering. “The one the gods could not kill… is coming,” a voice whispered in his bones. He tried to run. There was nowhere to go. His tongue split. His eyes boiled white. Hollowfire consumed both scroll and scribe. When the priestesses broke through the Vault stone, they found only ash and a single phrase seared into blackened marble: “The Hollow-Blood stirs.” The Vault stone pulsed once — like a dying heart — and the words bled themselves into the blackened marble.

The silence made my thighs clench. "What kind of dreams?" he asked, still calm. "I shouldn't say." "You came here to let it out," he answered simply. I held in my breathing. "They're... sexual. I wake up soaked. Aching. And ashamed." "Go on." I let my head rest against the wooden panel behind me. My eyes closed. "He touches me in ways no one ever has. And I let him. I want it. God, I want it so bad." The words spilled out, broken and messy. "Sometimes it's in public. Sometimes I'm tied down. Sometimes he just whispers in my ear and I'm already falling apart. I wake up wet, panting, and I can't stop thinking about it for days."

“But it still shakes me.” “That means you’re human.” He kissed the top of my head. “And still healing.” Later that night, I sat at my desk and opened a blank page. I began typing the first words of what would become my book. Title: The Anatomy of Betrayal By Dr. Elena Hart “This isn’t a story about revenge. It’s a story about what happens when the lies dissolve, and all that remains is the truth—raw, unspeakable, and liberating.”

He let out a hollow laugh, slouching against the doorpost. I rubbed my temple, already regretting this. “Is this conversation going to be worth it, Noah? I expected a sober man. Not a drunk idiot.” He rolled his eyes and took another swig from the bottle. “Yeah, right. Now I’m an idiot.” His laugh was low and bitter. “At least I wasn’t the one scammed by both his fiancée and her lover.” I stilled. “What?” The word left my mouth before I could stop it. “Lover?” narrowed my eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

I wondered how he did it so easily, lying without an ounce of conscience in his body. I used to believe in vows. I used to dream of the day it would come. How happy and peaceful I’d be with whoever man I’d be lucky to end up with. Julian was the only guy who came close to filling that mysterious man’s face. But even in my dreams, his face was only a blur. Just a by-product of my whimsical thoughts. This man in front of me managed to take all that away from me in just days. Here I was on my wedding day and I couldn’t be more miserable.

I don’t really know what happened and how I woke up to be here, but I was so sure there’s some strange connection between I and that strange pervert, even though I would hate to admit it. “I don’t know what he sees in you. You’re just some sick girl from the ghetto. Well, he promised to divorce you after some months, I can’t believe he gave out his jersey that I got him for his birthday to a low life cunt.” A low life? I scoffed shaking my head. Wait, what did she mean by divorce me? Are they playing games with me? No, I wouldn’t believe what this seemingly insane girl is saying. No, I refuse to believe I got forced into early marriage. Fuck! I’m just seventeen!

I nodded, breath hitching as he slid one thick finger inside me. “Read tonight’s first vow,” he said, nodding toward the notebook beside us. “While I get you ready for my cock.” My hand trembled as I reached for it and opened to the newest page. “I vow… to crave your touch even when I’m supposed to be working for her,” I read, voice breathy. “To let you use my body as your secret outlet… until the guilt only makes me wetter.” Lucas groaned softly and added a second finger, pumping them deep and steady while his thumb worked my clit.