Tongue Fetish 소설 & 이야기

Gage's lips crashed down on Nicole's, their tongues tangling in a passionate kiss. As they kissed, Nicole pulled back slightly, her eyes locked onto Gage's. "We neither want to be in a relationship nor can suppress our needs," she whispered, her lips brushing against Gage's. Gage's eyes burned with intensity, his lips curling into a smile. "So what do you propose?" he asked, his voice low and husky. Nicole's smile grew wider, and she leaned in closer, her lips touching Gage's. "Friends with benefits, just sex without any relationship boundaries." Gage's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't pull back. Instead, he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring Nicole's mouth. "Seriously?" he whispered, his lips brushing against Nicole's. Nicole nodded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yes, seriously." As they kissed, Gage's hands roamed over Nicole's body, his fingers tracing the contours of her curves. Nicole's hands were just as busy, her fingers exploring Gage's chest and abs. "I like your lips," Gage whispered, his lips brushing against Nicole's. Nicole smiled, her eyes locked onto Gage's. "I like your eyes." Gage's gaze roamed over Nicole's body, his eyes lingering on her breasts. "Your breasts," he whispered, his voice low and sensual. Nicole's smile grew wider, and she leaned in closer, her lips touching Gage's. "Your wide chest, and abs too." As they kissed, Nicole pulled back slightly, her eyes locked onto Gage's. "There are some rules, though," she whispered. As they kissed, Nicole pulled back slightly, her eyes locked onto Gage's. "What if we fall in love?" she whispered. Gage's smile faltered, and he looked at Nicole, his eyes searching. Nicole's expression turned serious, her eyes locked onto Gage's. "It can't happen," she whispered. "If it happens, then one will not force the other." "I'm in," he whispered.

I step into his office, and he is already waiting behind the desk. His amber eyes lock onto mine the moment I enter—deep, intense, and unreadable, as if he is trying to reach something buried beneath everything I refuse to show. “You can’t work under me anymore, Ms. Robinson,” he says calmly. His voice is steady, controlled. Too controlled. I tilt my head slightly, pretending indifference. “Are you firing me, sir?” The word feels unfamiliar on my tongue, even now, like it carries a distance I’m not used to acknowledging. He exhales slowly and stands from his chair, closing the space between us just enough to make it harder to breathe. “I can’t continue pretending you don’t know what I want,” he replies. My fingers tighten at my side. I force myself to look away. “You know it’s not possible,” I say quietly. “You’re married.” And just like that, everything shifts. Because I know this conversation. I’ve lived it in silence long before today. Four years ago, he left to study abroad. He promised he would come back. He promised that what we had wasn’t over. So I waited. I built my life around that promise, holding on to the belief that love like ours didn’t simply end—it paused, it endured, it survived distance. We were each other’s first love. Or at least, I thought we were something that would never be replaced. But when he returned, he did not return alone. He returned as someone else’s husband. Now he stands in front of me again, no longer the boy I once knew, but a man shaped by time, choices, and consequences I was never part of. And yet, the way he looks at me tells me nothing between us has truly ended. He wants something from me. Something I am not sure I can give without losing myself in the process. And worse than that— A part of me is still waiting to find out what happens if I don’t walk away this time.

⚠️WAR‌NING: For mature‍ re‍aders​ 18+ only. Themes​: Body‌ worship, dominance, primal play, an​d​ MFM/thr​eeso​me⁠ con‍tent. "Sto‍p f‌ighting it, S‍loane," he growls, his fist knotted in my hair. He ya⁠nks my head back until my thro​at ar‌ches, e⁠xpo‌sing my⁠ frantic p⁠ulse. His th​umb shoves pas‍t my lips,‍ pressing down on my​ tongue with bruising for⁠ce, marking me before h‍e even tastes me. I ch⁠ok‍e on a gasp, thighs trembling ag‍ainst‌ the wall. "We can’t." "Shut the fu‌ck up," he snarls, his teeth g‌ra‍zing the sensitiv⁠e cord of my neck. "I’​ve‍ s⁠pent years tr‍ackin​g every prim step you t‍ook. I’ve fantasized about the moment I finall​y cornered my prey." ‌ He s‍inks​ his teeth into th‌e junction of my shoulder, a sharp, posse‌ssive bite that will leave a jag⁠ged purple brand by morni‍ng. "Now,‍ you’re loc‍ke‌d in this c⁠age‌ with us​. I’m going to leave my​ mark on every i‍nch of your skin." Beh‌ind him, his twin l⁠ooms. A​ s‍ilent, lethal pre‍da⁠t‍or. I’m c⁠aged betwe‍en them, the ai‍r thic⁠k with the scent of‌ woodsmoke and ruin. Fo​r four years​, I‌ was the invi​sible shield for the St​erling empire. To me, they were⁠ liabilities. To them, I was the hun⁠t​. Zurich cha​nged e‍verythin‌g. The boy I once scheduled i‍s n‍ow a man who pins me do⁠wn, whispe‌r⁠ing​ filt‍h while his b​rother wa‍tches, his‌ eyes dar‌k wit‌h the same starving in‍tent. ​I was⁠ paid to guard the Sterl⁠ing legac⁠y. Now, I’m the pr⁠ize​. I‌ want them t​o hunt me. I w​an‍t them to worship me. I‍ want them to⁠ b‍reak me until there‍ is‍ nothing left​ but surren⁠d⁠er. ⁠