Throne Of Glass Series Spicy Chapters Novels & Stories

i begged tracing my finger across my bare neck. Spike's eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in, his fangs grazing my skin before sinking into my neck. The sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced, a mix of pleasure and pain that sent me over the edge. I cried out his name as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me. Spike gripped my hips tighter, slowing my movement as he drank from me. He pulled away my blood on his lips, and he stared into my eyes before pulling me into another heated kiss. The taste of my blood on his lips only fueled our passion further.

Phoenix hoarsely said as he unclasped the hook of my bra. I slightly shivered from the coldness and the empty feeling in my chest when my brassiere was completely gone. However, I let out a gasp when warm, thick, and large hands covered both of my chests. Phoenix smiled at me shyly. “Let's make Amorous.” END OF CHAPTER 59.2

Althea didn’t run. Running meant prey. She walked, fast and precise, her heels striking the marble like a countdown—the ballroom behind her pulsed with light and noise and the aftershock of shattered glass. Ahead, the west wing corridor waited: cooler, dimmer, the air thinning as if even oxygen knew better than to linger. Her palm throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Blood seeped sluggishly between her fingers, warm and sticky. The scent of burnt sugar clung to her skin, a phantom of the magic still swarming under her bones.

The suite trembled with our secret, her dominance a thrill I craved. Chapter Three – Corporate Climax The night settled over the suite, the city a distant glow beyond the windows, but the passion between us burned brighter, a corporate conquest of desire. My body was a map of her touch—bruises on my thighs, cum drying on my skin, pussy and ass stretched from her relentless games. My daring spirit hungered for more, and she sensed it, her dark command a challenge I couldn’t resist.

I felt a warmth that started at my core and radiated outward. Tomorrow Stephen said, looking at the silhouette of the vines the work starts again. Yes I said, leaning my head against his arm. Tomorrow we aren't rebuilding what was broken. We're growing what is new. I looked back at the courtyard one time. The fires were dying down to glowing embers and the scent of lavender and woodsmoke hung in the air like a blessing. The Tower of Glass was a memory. The Black Wing was a ghost. I was Hannah and the season was finally truly mine. The preparation was over.

I shouted. I didn't sit in the chair. I picked up the shard of the broken glass console. I didn't use the silver pen. I didn't use my blood. I looked at the Master-Chair—the heart of the Aethel-Group’s power. "I'm not the hero," I said. "And I'm not the goddess." I stabbed the glass shard into the **Center of the Light**. --- ### The Darkest Chapter The explosion wasn't made of fire. It was made of **Ink**.

I asked, my voice soft, almost tender. The flame flickered between us, its heat licking at the air. She didn’t answer, but her lips parted, trembling. “I think you do,” I continued, stepping closer. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The fire inside you, burning away everything you thought you were. That’s what I’ve given you, isn’t it? A taste of what’s to come.” I reached out, letting the flame hover near her skin, close enough that she could feel its heat.

Mara wouldn’t be likely to find me here, at least not right away, giving me a little time to read unbothered. I settled down, brushing the leaves and pine needles off the bench, then opened the book on my lap and continued to read where I had left off last night. The chapter on documented reincarnation accounts was dense and slow-going in places, and a lot of it still didn’t apply to my situation in any direct way. But I kept reading, skimming over the sections that seem irrelevant. I was about three quarters of the way through the chapter when I turned the page and found the heading: “The Lycan Princess and the Throne of Ashmoore.”

My spine snaps straight, and my vision trembles at the edges. I can taste the nectar and feel the blaze so deep my gems throb with the eagerness to join her, and the craving for the hit all over again. ‘Do that again,” dare, plea, threat, promise? I don’t know as Aya continues to helplessly wind on him.

I felt raw, exposed and seen. "Twelve... thank you..." My legs shook violently. "Thirteen... Mistress..." "Fourteen..." I barely got it out. Then came the fifteenth. I screamed. "Fifteen! Thank you, Mistress Alex..." Silence. My body buzzed, burned, and begged. And I stayed still, holding myself up on trembling arms, waiting for whatever she wanted next. Because I was hers, and I wanted to be broken again