Thrown Kiss Novels & Stories

I guess she thinks I can't hear her, since she's whispering, but I can hear her fully. Then our lips make contact. I grab her cheek in support, as our lips move in sync. I cannot believe this is happening. I'm kissing Heaven Martinez and I'm not pushing her away? I'm not feeling disgusted. I am feeling some sort of likeness, and it's scaring me. After a few seconds of kissing she taps my thigh, not knowing what she wants, I lift myself on top of her as she puts her hand on my lower back, almost touching my ass.

In that quiet room, with the sound of the gala fading into the background, the tension between them snapped like a taut wire. She reached up, grabbing the lapels of his tuxedo, and pulled him down to her. His lips crashed against hers, hard and desperate, and she kissed him back with equal fervor. It wasn’t a soft, tender kiss of love—it was a kiss of possession, of all the anger, frustration, longing, and fear that had built up between them for months. It was a way to claim each other, to say you’re mine even when they were fighting, to hold onto something real in a world that felt chaotic and unsteady. Liam’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, his body pressing against hers.

"I did give you everything." "No," Katerina said. She moved with precision and fury and heartbreak. "I gave myself to you. And I'm taking it back." She landed a devastating blow. Dimitri went down to one knee. He looked up at her and laughed. Actually laughed. "You still don't understand. You can never escape me. I'm in your bones. I'm in every breath. I own you." "You did," Katerina said. Her voice was hollow. Final. "But she doesn't. And that's enough."

So he did the only thing that came to him in that moment—he leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss. It was sudden, unexpected, and overwhelming. His lips were firm yet gentle, demanding yet tender. The kiss was an assertion, a way to remind her that she was still alive, still capable of feeling something other than fear. Esteria's initial shock melted into something warmer, deeper, as his kiss grew more insistent. Her hands, weak as they were, found their way to his shoulders, clutching at him as if he were her lifeline.

"Good, girl." Xavier immediately captures my lips in an explosive kiss, a collision of pent-up emotion and passion. This is not just a kiss; it's a declaration of war against my sanity. His tongue sweeps across my lips with possessive demand, forcing me to open up and accept his complete dominance. I let out a soft moan, my hands weaving into his hair, pulling him closer until no air remains between us. The kiss is hot and wild, tasting like a burning, potent fragrance. Each touch of his lips seems to absorb all the wounds of betrayal I felt, replacing them with electric sparks that burn through my nerves. His steel-hard embrace is the only thing that feels real and dizzying.

Ever. My heart melted when he finally kissed me back, painfully slow, as if he was trying to fight his own instincts and conceal his anger. An arm made its way to my neck, and I followed his movement, holding the back of his neck and savoring his lips. This felt so right. He was being so gentle and slow, as if he was trying to pour all of his hidden feelings into the kiss. I wanted it to last forever, but due to a lack of oxygen, I finally had to pull away.

Perfect. He leaned in for a kiss. I saw it coming, a predictable maneuver. Operation Kiss: Initiate. I met him halfway, angling my head, offering my cheek. Brief. Controlled. A tactical acknowledgment. His lips were warm, dry. I felt the pressure, registered the contact, noted the duration, sufficient for affection, insufficient for passion. Check.

I stood there, caught in the crossfire, my heart pounding in my chest, desperately wishing for an escape from this oppressive atmosphere. Without any warning, Zack moved forward, and before I had the slightest chance to react, he kissed me. The kiss was fierce, filled with an intensity that took my breath away. Despite the recent coldness that had characterized our interactions, there was an undeniable emotion in the kiss—a potent mix of anger, possessiveness, and an elusive something else that I couldn’t quite identify. It felt as though all the unspoken words and unresolved tensions between us were channeled into that single, intense kiss.

I absolutely, unapologetically melted. My hands curled into his shirt, his hands pulled me close, and somewhere in the suite, I swear I heard Mr. Yellow gag dramatically behind a pillow. But neither of us cared. Because this kiss wasn’t just romance. It was a claim. A promise. A sizzling, toe-curling royal seal of vengeance, power, and love. And when we finally pulled apart, slightly breathless, I whispered— “Well… that was better than decapitation.” Edric smirked.

Instinctively, she licked her lips, only to meet his waiting ones. Without another thought, Ayaaz captured her lips in a fierce kiss. Both closed their eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of their raw and untamed passion for each other. Her heart skipped a beat as he began to devour her lips, tilting his face for better access. Ziniya, mirroring his action, reciprocated the kiss, her toes curling from the passionate grip he held on her. Her inexperience only fueled his possessiveness, and he deepened the kiss as if to forever seal his claim on her.