Three Tales Of Chemical Romance Novels & Stories

||Three Years Later|| Ryan sighed heavily, probably for the umpteenth times, as he rubbed his temples continuously with both index fingers like he was trying to wade off his nonstop headache with the process. With just a glance at him, anyone could tell he is not just physically tired but emotionally and mentally tired as well. Three years and months had passed since Ciara left him. He had lived each day of those three years in nothing else but turmoil, searching frantically for her, but all his effort proved abortive, and it seemed like she really did disappear into the thin air —leaving no traces behind.

I smiled, wallowing in those same fantasies that had only haunted me. For a year, since I turned 18, I had been daydreaming about the day we would meet our mate and how I would get struck by his manly pheromones, which would capture every part of my being and pull us towards each other. How he would hold my hands, stare into my eyes passionately, and tell me my suffering is over.

She leaned in, taking him into her mouth, the taste of them mingled on her tongue, salty, musky, intoxicating. He groaned, low and primal, his hips bucking slightly as she worked him with her lips and tongue, her hands steadying on his thighs. It was messy, her movements driven by the same twisted desire that had brought them here. He tightened his hold on her hair, dictating the pace, pushing deeper until tears pricked her eyes, but she didn't pull away. This was their dance, dark, unforgiving, a romance forged in shadows and secrets.

Larisa wrote down the last line of the poem and shut her jotter. She yearned for Aleric so bad. Her hand reached out and picked up the goblet of red, thick blood, raising it to her lips. Not that she was hungry. She just needed the blood to serve as an aphrodisiac substitute to what she was feeling, to what she wanted. Sex. A copulation of body and soul with her beloved. But that would not be today, nor tomorrow. His journey still had a few days left in it.

"Your tracker brain is right. But your hands are actively fanning the pack fire." "Let the territory burn," I tell his chest. "I think these three volumes should do the trick." "Beginner, intermediate, and advanced mating books. Does your wolf require anything else from the archives?" he asks, his arms folding. I nod my head. "Actually, yes. My wolf desires to browse the explicit romance scrolls." "Lead the trail," he says, following my boots across the wooden floor, carrying all three massive sex texts securely in his large hands.

It certainly wasn’t the last time. Conor made me cum so hard that I saw stars, and was a very generous lover. He was near obsessed with going down on me, saying that I had the sweetest, prettiest, and most delicious pussy in the world. Things got hot and heavy, and there was no way for lines not to be blurred, between healthy, platonic love, and the lust fueled romance we found ourselves caught up in.

Roses, a white dress, the guests, the sunshine: it all felt so vivid, yet so surreal. His gaze landed on the empty spot where the bridesmaid should have been, and it all clicked why that seat was unoccupied. Natalie was gone. She was gone forever. She had taken her life. She had done that with his unborn child when she leapt from the 18th floor. It was all because he tampered with her medicine, because he dared her to prove her true love, and because of his whispered lies of forever and always. He did everything to win her heart.

My desires began to grow, and I was helpless against it. Tristan's blue eyes narrowed on me. He leaned his face towards me, and our lips were only a few centimetres apart. My lips parted of their own accords, eagerly waiting for the touch. "Quit playing with the girl, will you?" Titan hissed from behind us. I heard Tilder laughed a bit before he whined. "You just had to take the fun away, Titan." He pouted. Tristan got up from me, and I scrambled away. I couldn't believe that I had nearly fallen for the antics of the three brothers.

The scent of jasmine aromatherapy filled the room, creating what should have been a romantic atmosphere for the newlyweds. Vivian approached me, removing her hair accessories one by one. She looked at me through the dressing mirror with a gaze full of desire. "Dewangga... finally, it's just the two of us," she whispered softly. She walked towards me, wrapping her arms around my neck. "Tonight is our first night. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time." She started kissing my neck, trying to ignite the fire that should have been there. However, my body felt like a block of ice.

He watched her, his gaze steady and unnervingly focused. “Tell me,” he said, breaking the silence she had fallen into. “Why Keats? Of all the poets who have wrestled with illicit yearning, why did you anchor your work to him?” Scarlett hesitated. No one had ever asked her that. “Because it’s raw. It’s not romantic, it’s obsession, the ache that overtakes you, the pain that feels necessary. It mirrors real life, doesn’t it?”